[IC] The Origin: A Devil Returned (Arc Two)

[The Darklight Project]

The Origin

The Beginning of a Revolt

Forest, Northern Barcea

Two months. When said by itself it didn't seem to be that much of a difference, but after a brief and yet brutally vicious war two months had been a long time. While the road to recovery for Gurata may have been relatively quick, seeing as not a single conflict had been fought in the northern land, Yihira knew that both H'kela and Barcea were having a rougher time of it. The new Queen and King of each nation had inherited difficult problems, whether they were caused by a broken system that came before or the sense of loss felt from the violence. Despite these difficulties, the news that the Chieftains had received about both had been optimistic, especially from Barcea.

The new King of Barcea had been working hard to raise the morale of his people once again. He knew the sudden loss of the beloved Queen had taken a very heavy toll on everyone, and wanted to start the process of healing. At first, it had been difficult to figure out how to best accomplish this goal in between all of the repairs and recovery of resources that had been lost due to pillaging, but tradition would soon come to the King's aid. Winter was fast approaching, and with it came Silvae's Celebration. Though Ambrosia may have been the one most directly celebrated by Barceans, all of them were revered, and Silvae was often considered to be quite close to Ambrosia considering her focus upon Compassion.

Silvae's Celebration was a week dedicated towards giving to others; giving to family and friends, certainly, but strangers as well. It was about caring for those less fortunate than one's self, and for everyone within the community at the whole. In Gurata, the festivities were simply an escalation of the almost daily feasts to a much more chaotic level, but Yihira knew that the experience in Barcea was very different; much more organized and deliberate. She had always been curious, but had never had a reason to go.

The King had given her one when, along with the news that in the Capitol the Celebration would be extended to a full month, he had sent all of the Chieftains invitations as way of thanks for their assistance in the war once again. Seryosa, naturally, had ignored it entirely, but that was expected from her. Kisarin had departed so quickly that nearly everyone had missed his departure; he had left well over three weeks in advance. The message that Kisarin had sent Yihira, sloppily written and delivered, had been what made her decide to leave for the even two weeks early. To her surprise, apparently the Barceans at least knew how to enjoy themselves before a major celebration.

She had left the Homestead with two warriors with her as escorts, and they had made good time to the south. Crossing over the border between her nation and Barcea had brought not only rest but an increase in heat, and though it was uncomfortable at least it wasn't the damnable H'kela desert once again. She was still finding bits of sand in her armor.

After starting for the night they began early the next day, and their travel soon brought them through a forest in the northern region of Barcea. The trees had grown tall here, and thickly together, but despite that the Barceans had, over time, managed to carve a straight road through the woods. It was a quiet place to be, the only sounds coming for animals in the distance, and only rarely...

And yet, at the same time, something seemed wrong about the silence after a while, like there was an underlying noise that was so faint it was more felt than heard. Her eyebrows furrowed, and as her body tensed and she looked around, her two escorts realized something was off as well. Steadily, the noise was becoming louder, almost sounding like swishing fabric.

She looked back, where it seemed to be coming from, and almost immediately the noise was gone. Her eyes narrowed, suspicious, but when her horse gave a frightened neigh she whirled around, and then reeled back in alarm. On top of the animal's neck stood a young boy who couldn't have been older than fifteen. Around him was wrapped a light blue cloak, and he had a blade in his hand. On his face was a plain, strange and polite smile, one that didn't stretch to his eyes at all, which seemed almost dead and empty. Beneath him, the horse had completely submitted, not even attempting to rear to throw the boy.

"I'm very sorry, Chieftan Yihira, but for the sake of my Master you simply have to die!"

The sword flashed, and rider and horse split in two.

---

The Capitol

The city had truly come alive for the first time since the relatively small celebrations after the King's coronation, and it seemed that the people were excited for something to be happy about. The announcement of the King to quadruple the length of Silvae's Celebration that year had been met with pure glee, and so eagerly had the people begun that it seemed like the Celebration had already begun. The skies may have turned somewhat grey as it became colder, but for the first time in two months the general mood was anything but.

The color of season was a light red, associated with the color of the ribbon that Silvae was usually depicted wearing in her hair. There were ribbons of this red everywhere, placed on doors or in the windows, lining the buildings. Briefly, the blue of Barcea was threatened to be overtaken by that red, but it wasn't forgotten.

Within the homes, decorations were rampant as well. There was a focus upon flowers especially, even though the approaching winter had begun to kill many in the wild. In anticipation of the season, florists had taken the time to gather and cultivate the flowers that usually did not make it to the Celebration, and kept them safe and growing through careful skill and, in some cases, sprinklings of basic magic bought and sold in the form of trinkets.

The castle was no exception to this, and indeed had been decorated thoroughly. Red and blue accented each other, streamers and ribbons hanging next to banners, and flowers filled the vases that had already been standing for a long while. The King himself was no exception, very purposefully wearing a red sash beneath his cape, over his shoulder and to his side. Beyond a few choices here and there, he had left most of the planning and decorating for the Celebration to better equipped people, those who were especially passionate and experienced with the holiday.

In truth, the King was feeling more overwhelmed than anything, at least most of the time. Grief returned at times with a vengeance, but even when he was feeling better than normal the work as King was utterly extensive. From the management of what was left of the military to the specific strategy for rebuilding, there weren't enough councilors to make that any easier for the King it felt. Cyril, more often than not, was more than a little tired and certainly more than a little stressed, but despite all of that he was remaining as strong as he could.

While the road to recovery as a nation was still long, it seemed like the Sentinels and their allies had managed their physical recovery failed enough. There had been plenty of wounds to heal, from broken bones to heavy slashes, but for the most part it had been things easy enough for Diane to heal, with the assistance of a few other healers. Unfortunately, some wounds were greater than others, and things lost couldn't be replaced; some were still having to adapt to their new way of living.

Emotional damage was still healing, but despite that and the worsened physical situation for a few, they had pushed on. The Sentinels had returned to training and patrol, and a few more had officially joined the Barcean ranks rather than just being trusted allies. Cyril was proud of them all; they had all fought and worked hard to push back the Advisor, and finally drive her away entirely. The King had made sure plenty of people were watching for her to perhaps return, and yet there wasn't the slightest sign of her at all.

Though their first foray against the Manu Propria directly had involved losing a fair amount, they still came out victorious.

Thanks to the rapidly approaching Celebration, they had plenty to be excited for as well. Some were already actively taking part of it, Gortul especially; he was eagerly giving gifts to all he came across, be them fellow Sentinels all the way to the servants within the castle. Chieftain Kisarin as well seemed to be enjoying himself, having almost immediately replied to the invitation with his arrival, much to the surprise of everyone; Cyril was still concerned the food stores might not be able to survive to the actual holiday.

In some way, everyone was going along with the preparation (whether they wanted to or not; those who didn't actively decorate their spaces on their own were often surprised when they returned to their own spaces), and during one of his brief breaks Cyril had finally found the time to make his way along, and inspect who had done what. He honestly enjoyed the decorations, though in a bittersweet sort of way; Kori had enjoyed Silvae's Celebration immensely, and that was always in the back of his mind.

There was still plenty of joy to be found however, especially in places like Ayano's room; she had gone almost wild with the color red, her door positively covered with it, and her normally white clothes now had plenty of red incorporated as well. Other places were certainly a little more... reserved, for lack of a better term; for example, Alsius' room was one of those that had to be decorated for him, and the most anyone had done was place a red bow on his door.

It was on his search that he found Calypso, and as usual the strange woman seemed just a little lost. Without anyone to be regularly attached to, she found a place to be stationary typically, and in that moment she had simply come to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Having no idea how long she had been there, he stopped briefly as his eyebrows raised before he proceeded forwards, approaching her from behind to stand next to her.

"Calypso, everything okay?" She only moved when he spoked to her, and that was really just to turn her head slightly to look at him from the corner of her eye. Wearing her typical smile, he noticed the red length of ribbon she had in her hand as she replied.

"Oh, hello Cyril~ I'm fine, just thinking~" While others may have tried to get her to call him by his new title, there was very little point in trying to get it to stick and he had made it clear enough to simply stop trying.

"About...?"

"Oh, what I'm going to do with this~" She held the ribbon out to him suddenly. "Diane gave it to me and told me to make use of it~ Would you like it~?"

He held up one hand briefly, shaking his head slightly as he did so. "No, no, I think she meant for you to use it. Here, may I?" She gave a nod, and he took the ribbon from her, holding it up next to her head. After a moment he carefully took a length of her hair and tied the ribbon around it, carefully making sure it would remain in place before he lowered his hands. In contrast her hands went up, playing with it gently, her eyes wide with curiosity as she tilted her head some.

"Do you know what's going on right now, Calypso?"

"Nope~"

"Come with me then, let's walk for a little and I'll tell you about it."

---

"OW OW OW FUCK WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO, TEAR THE REST OF IT OFF?"

There was a sudden crack, followed by a somewhat shrill, "Lower your voice, you colossal dolt, and stop struggling! It would make this so much easier!"

Face stretched into a continuous wince, Christopher's hand came up to rub at the rapidly swelling welt on the side of his head, from the third staff that Diane had broken against him that day. Another sharp tug from his left side caused him to hiss and grind his teeth, but he didn't say anything as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Diane's hand reach for the fourth staff.

He had woken up two days after the fight with the Advisor, and there had been plenty to fill him in on. He had caught up quickly enough, but it was only after regaining consciousness that he fully realized his left arm was gone. He had been told that they had attempted to save his arm, trying to reattach it to his body, but the limb had been too badly damaged by whatever the Advisor had been using, and his own body was rejecting it. Despite that his body was continuing to heal, even without the limb there; ragged stretches of skin pushed from the scarred stump every day, but no muscle or bone extended with it.

It was the suggestion of the Paladin to continue clearing the skin away, and more often than not Diane was the one to do it. It wasn't because of any inability on Christopher's part, considering how insistent he was on doing it himself; she simply didn't listen, and when she saw his efforts usually declared them as some sort of new attempt to butcher himself. After the third week he had given in, but part of him hoped that someone else would be able to keep Diane's attention away from him soon.

With one final pull, Diane had finished covering the stump with a fresh set of bandages. Calmly she gathered the old bandages (and the excess flesh with them) to dispose of, even as he rolled his shoulder to try and pop it back into place. A few cracks later he was standing and asking, "Are we done?"

"You're still here?"

With that being more than enough to answer him, he stepped out of the general room for the Sentinels, only to start making his way through the hallway. Part of him was honestly still surprised he was here; he had expected the Paladin to be ready to move on to the next bit of religious work, but apparently Dubois had decided to settle in with the King's forces for the time being. To be entirely honest, the young man didn't mind all that much. His feet certainly hurt a lot less keeping to one place, and the beds here were nice.

The downside? Now the Paladin wasn't the only one he had to avoid for "lessons" any more.

---

"Sir? Is everything alright?"

The Wanderer came crashing back down to the world around him, eyes going through a furious number of blinks suddenly. For a moment he couldn't recall what he had been doing at all, but as color returned to his vision the pieces quickly fit back together once again. Weakly smiling, he nodded, and quickly finished out counting the coins to hand to the vendor. After just a moment of hesitation, mostly shown by a furrowed brow, the man handed the single red lily over to Joachim. Nodding in gratitude, even as the small man began to walk away he was carefully placing it in the round, flat hat he carried with him, wearing it over his back with a string around his neck if not wearing it upon his head.

It was a time to make merry, and though Joachim had been feeling it up to that very hour he suddenly no longer felt his quiet joy. Instead, there was a sick feeling in his stomach, as if he had been hit hard in the gut. With it came an itch to his cheek that he was constantly scratching at (despite the Queen's official pardon he still made an effort to wear bandages over the scar when he went out). He felt a seeping paranoia in his bones, one that made him shift uncomfortably often and, like he had just done in front of the vendor, lose himself in deep thought.

He wasn't sure why he was feeling like this; the last time he had, after all, was when he and the Direwolf had met in the Arena in Gurata, before once again fighting one another. It was like something from his past was screaming at him once again, but he wasn't sure what. With that came the terrible feeling of being watched, but despite even the subtlest of glances he found no one suspicious around him.

It seemed that, for once, he was feeling paranoid for no reason, and that almost bothered him more than knowing that a threat was actually nearby. His hand came up and he carefully placed his hat upon his head, using it shield his face some as he made his way back towards the castle. Being recognized by the guards at that point, he was let through without any trouble.

He only stopped once more before the gates closed behind him in order to look back, biting his lip as he did so.

---

Forest, Northern Barcea

"Sampson, wait." Pulling the reins to bring his horse to a stop, Sampson looked over to Alasa as the archer looked around, having brought his own mount to a stop a few steps before. It seemed like the Sentinel was listening carefully, looking around, but most surprisingly sniffing, before slowly beginning to dismount. Giving yet another look to the trees around the two of them, Alasa asked, "Do you smell that?"

Blinking once, Sampson took in a sniff, and immediately realized what had grabbed Alasa's attention. It was a thick, acrid smell, one that had settled in all around them. Nodding, Sampson dismounted as well, the two leading their horses to the side of the road before beginning to make their way forwards. They didn't have very long to go, as the small side path they were on, which wound back and forth, soon met with the main road. It was there they almost immediately found the source.

"Divines, no-" Sampson's hand came up, covering the lower half of his face as the smell hit the two of them even more heavily, and he looked away from the scene of something even worse than butchery in front of him. Meanwhile, Alasa slowly stepped forwards, into the thick of it. He crouched, and though Sampson knew he was clearly looking for signs of any sort, to figure out what happened and where the attacker had gone. It was not often, however, that he witnessed Alasa swearing under his breath due to failure, even as he stood.

"Sampson, help me. We need to hide them and report back to the King quickly, so that someone can be sent to recover them."

"Dammit- Alright, come on. Let's start with.... Let's start with her."

Of them all, Yihira's body was the least mutilated and scattered.

[PetiteAmbivert]

Alice

The recovery from the fight with the Advisor had been the hardest thing for Alice. When the Advisor had attacked her it had been quick and brutal-she was rather surprised when she came back to consciousness alive. A lingering question in the back of her head asking how she had not died; it, of course, was quickly wiped from her mind as she had felt her shoulder still fully out of it’s socket and several of her ribs broken or fractured. It didn’t help she had also woken up to a very passed out Stark who was bleeding from the face.

That all had been about two months ago.

Now she, along with many others, was back in the castle back in Barcea preparing for Silvae’s Celebration. When she was still living in the West the winter time was her least favorite time of year, as she did not like cold, but also her favorite time of year as it was the time of year to give aid and love to those around you. So Alice did what she did best-she cooked.

While there were quite a few of the others in the traveling party who had become full on Sentinel’s she was one of the few who remained as an ally to the then Prince and now crowned King. Once she had a few more things figured out there was a chance she would either leave Barcea or make this place her home-time would yet tell. However, she would indulge in the festivities as much as she could-the red flower tucked just under the pink carnation in her hair as the red ribbon tied around her neck being the clearest indicators.

Ding! -Just like the cookies that just finished in the oven.

The woman turned and pulled the pan from it’s baking position, with the help of one of the very king kitchen workers who was assisting Alice amongst the midst of the constant celebration going on. In their little corner of the kitchen they left the last batch to cool while preparing the final touches to the bags she had ready-the ribbons needing to be tied off before placed into one of the waiting baskets for her to take to those around the castle or outside in the city.

Speaking of inside of the castle, she plotted carefully whose room would receive the next ribbon treatment. Shadar had been being much more vigilant as of late so decorating his and Drosil’s room was proving difficult. It also did not help that there were some in the castle whose room she was afraid to enter. Alice truly did know that little to no harm would come to her if she were to be caught but the thought of the Direwolf or Vesta is what made her fear the most. She’d already gotten to some people’s rooms like Christopher- enjoying his cursing fits- as well as Cyril’s room. She had wanted to surprise Ayano but it seemed the Princess had beaten her to the punch because when she had entered the Princess’ room it had already been a red explosion on the inside.

If she were honest she went over board with a few rooms but others she added small touches, much like with Dalious’, Diane’s, Sampson’s, Mister Dubois’ and Cyril’s rooms. Adding touches of red here and there and leaving anonymous foods with a kind note before scurrying out. Others got the full treatment.of red ribbons, bows, ties, flowers, and decor all over their rooms- Christopher being the one who got the worst of it followed by Alasa, Gortul, and Stark. All of which she also left cookies and sweets for them to return to; in hopes of defusing potential anger. They too received notes.

Alice had yet to get to everyone but she was working her way through the list and she would be damned if she didn’t get to everyone. These festivities were just what everyone needed, even if it was more of a distraction for many then an actual benefit. She tied off the last of the bags as she mindlessly filled the baskets carefully before picking it up and beginning to make her rounds to anyone she passed in the hallways-still in rather deep thought as to how to subtly

Stark

“It's done!”

The exclamation was loud as can be in Stark’s minimal room as she held up the fruit of her labors. It was hand made and , to the unknowing, looked wrong. One side longer than the other and the other being oddly short if there at all.

However, she was proud of her work as she carefully folded the fabric into a neat pile before placing it gingerly into a simple red bag with a painstakingly detailed name tag with the name of ‘Christopher Nocte’.

The silver haired mage tucked a bit of hair behind her ear as she flexed her aching fingers. As much as she liked crafting things- sewing was the most painful so far. “Lady Diane should still be in…” she quietly said to herself as she grabbed the bag before slipping out of her own room and began her way towards where Diane should be.

She didn’t go very far before she ended up running into Christopher, with the proximity between the living rooms of the Sentinels and allied members with the training areas for the group. He nearly missed her to begin with, only looking up when he happened to hear footsteps coming from the other way. Eyebrows furrowing briefly, he brought up his hand and gave a slight wave.

”Yo, Stark. Everything okay?”

Stark damn near jumped out of her skin when she realized Chris was addressing her. She gave a small squeak before panicking. She had wanted to leave his present anonymously but yet here he was. Oh to the Divines with it.

“Uh. UM! FUCK! HERE!” Smooth Stark.

She shoved the package into his chest as her face turned redder and redder by the second.

Taking it full to the chest, he grunted as he briefly staggered back, his arm wrapping around it to keep it from falling. Eyebrows going up briefly, he looked down, before looking back up to her and holding it towards her again.

”Hold it for me.”

Stark felt a knot in her throat as her ears turned a brilliant red. She looked down as she held the bag open for him to pull the contents out.

“I- Icanresizeitifitdoesntfit.” She sputtered out in a quick string of words.

He didn’t respond, not to begin with. Instead, he was just focused on slowly pulling the sweater out, looking over it. Of course, he noticed the difference of the length of sleeves, and he looked up to her once more, from the clothing. He grinned ever slightly.

”You cheeky bitch.”

Everything was red now as she forced herself to look up at him with her nose scrunched and a twist of her lips.

“I just wanted you safe. The enemy could grab the sleeve and hurt you again so I made it shorter and I know I made the inside red so it wouldn't stain because we both know you're reckless and going to get hurt but I don’t like seeing you hurt and I don't want you to be cold so...I thought it would be a good idea…” her words slowed to a neat trickle as she more or less was deflated.

”I love it.”

Her mouth fell in a perfect ‘O' shape before grinning widely. “Really? You mean it? You promise you do? Don't lie to me jerk face.” She stated as she was practically bouncing on her toes with barely contained excitment.

He shook his head slightly. ”No, I’m not lying to you at all. It’s really thoughtful, and I greatly appreciate it.” Still, he smiled. ”So, thank you.”

The excitement seemed to be too much as she dropped the bag in a little flail as she closed the gap and have him a hug grinning broadly. “I'm glad you enjoy it. If any seams mess up just tell me and I'll fix it okay? Don’t go messing it up either okay?” She broadly asked as she took a step back still smiling and bouncing on her toes.

He clearly didn’t mind the hug, bringing his arm up and around to return the embrace, and dropping it afterwards, keeping a tight hold on the sweater all the while. ”Of course. I’ll do my very best to, at least.”

“I'm going to hold you to that, Sparky.” she mused as she picked the bag back up- removed the name tag and stuck it to his chest with another from before going around him literally skipping off towards Diane’s.

[Atrophy]

A Promise

Outside, the streets of the Kirun were bustling with life as merchants and shoppers flooded the marketplace like a sea of people. The end of the war had brought with it the end of the embargo on trade and travellers from Barcea and Gurata, and once again the city was overwhelmed with prosperity and energy, even as the days grew shorter and the mountain air grew colder. Guards kept a watchful eye out for any thieves while serving as guides for foreigners, and the smell of freshly cooked food from street vendors blanketed the air with rich and sweet scents. For the time being, life in the Kirun had gone back to normal.

The same could not be said for life within the palace. Once filled with guests and business partners, a majority of the staff had been reassigned and most of the wings of the manor had been closed off. The gates to the manor had mostly stayed shut since Ennis Cade had taken over as Lord of the Kirun for his late father, only opening to allow the rare messenger or servant passage. The new Lord Cade had always been a sickly man, and word had leaked out that he had been bedridden for the past two months. Despite these rumors, he had still been signing trade contracts and issuing decrees; apparently, even serious illness was not enough to keep the man from conducting business.

However, only a handful of people truly knew what was going beyond the manor’s doors, and one of those people had just arrived at the palace gates. Nia Tucela flashed the guards a smile as she passed through unchecked. On anyone else the elite soldiers would’ve performed a search for any dangerous items, but Nia had word from both the former and the current Lord Cade that she was trusted and to not be bothered. Plus, the men may live in the Kirun, but they were still technically H’kelan soldiers, and like any good H’kelan soldier they knew that it was better to simply ignore a mage than try to make them heed to their demands. At best they would get beguiled by illusions and trickery, at worst they would be turned inside out by dark magic. It was a stereotype, of course, but it was one Nia didn’t mind having; anything was better than being pushed around by overpaid meatheads.

She didn’t bother with knocking on the front door, knowing that the doorman had been let go weeks ago, and it closed behind her with a loud thud that echoed through the empty halls as she entered. The grand hall was well-lit and clean, a paper thin disguise for the rest of the manor that laid beyond it, and as Nia walked the familiar steps towards her destination she could almost see the point where the housekeeper had given up on maintaining the illusion as dust, cobwebs, and burnt-out lanterns began to shift the state of the manor into dreary darkness. With the snap of her fingers a small flame came to life on the tip of her forefinger and cast asoft glow around the woman, shadows dancing off of the walls, as she progressed further into the maze-like manor. Truth be told, she didn’t really need the light to know her way. Ennis had settled in his old childhood sickroom (instead of the master’s chambers), and Nia had been navigating the winding halls to that room since she could remember walking. Nia hesitated for a moment as she came to his door and then rapped her knuckles lightly against the wood.

“Ennis, it’s me. May I come in?”

Silence. She felt her heart rate quicken as the worst came to mind. She wrapped her hand around the door and opened it hard, letting it bounce against the wall as she hastily stepped forward into the room. The small flame on her fingers erupted into that of a large torch and pushed all of the shadows to the corners. Her narrowed eyes fell on the ornate bed frame and scanned for signs of life on the figure that laid wrapped up to their neck below covers, her features softening as she saw his eyes blinking back at her. With a sigh she whipped the flames around her hand and tossed them aside like a crumpled napkin, the fireball landing in the fireplace. The crackling of wood began to fill the room as a fire sprung to life and Nia took a step closer to Ennis, her arms folded across her chest in disapproval.

“A simple ‘come in’ would be appreciated,” she said, her eyes scanning his face. His brown eyes avoided her scrutinization, but she imagined she would’ve seen a mixture of guilt and accusation looking up at her. His blond hair was unwashed and greasy and he looked even skinnier than before. An untouched plate of food rested on his nightstand; she had been the one who had set it there the other night. She grabbed it and used the polished fork to scrape the food into the wastebin. “You know, I can fire the cook if their food isn’t to your liking.”

“Don’t bother,” muttered Ennis, rolling so that his back was to Nia.

“Listen, you need to regain your strength. I can’t keep running the Kirun for you; we both know that. It’s not that this is a struggle for me, really, but people already know that you haven’t left your room in months. Soon they’re going to figure out that the one telling them what they can and cannot sell is the mage running messages for them. They won’t like that,” she said.

“You can handle them.”

“Well, yeah, of course I can, but I somehow doubt that turning any of our merchants into a pile of ash would be good for free trade. Not to say that some of them don’t deserve it,” she added with a sneer, thinking exclusively of one troublesome tailor that had charged her a small fortune for an alteration. Ennis didn’t reply. “Come on, Ennis. I need you to get healthier. You need to start eating—you promised me.”

“Yeah, well, it may come as a shock, but you’re not the only one who can break a promise,” he said, coolly.

So, it was this conversation again. She had been expecting things to turn ugly, but it didn’t stop his words from piercing her like a knife shoved between the ribs any less. She really wish he would drop it, even though she could understand why he never would. If she had lost her father, spouse, and child then she would have shot the messenger, too, especially when the messenger had sworn to rescue their wife and daughter well before their lives were ever truly at risk. When the war ended Nia had tried to save them from the palace in the Oasis, only to arrive to the aftermath of the infighting that had erupted in Gartain’s defeat. Ennis’s wife and daughter had been slain, perhaps on purpose, perhaps on accident, by some unknown swords. Ennis’s father had also been murdered days later during Revali’s revolution, brought down amongst throngs of other lords by some sort of force. Nia had been spared the same fate by leaving earlier that week to deliver the somber news to Ennis about his spouse and child.

Still, even if she could understand where he was coming from, she could not stand that he kept coming at here.

“I told you I’m sorry,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You’re sorry?” said Ennis with a laugh, turning so that he could look Nia in her face with a withering glare. “I don’t want your apologies. You lied to me. They’re dead because of that.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she said.

“You failed me. You killed them. I trusted you,” he said, nearly blabbering at this point.

He kept speaking, but she no longer heard his words. Something about seeing her friend breakdown into a complete mess sparked something inside of Nia, and a cool anger boiled up from inside of her. She took two quick steps towards his bed and grabbed Ennis by the shoulders, bringing her face so close to his it was as if they were about to kiss. Yet the passion that poured from her lips was poisonous, and she watched her friend writhe with discomfort as she spoke, her voice cold and calculated:

“Listen here, you little shit, the only failure here is you, and the only reason you’re even lying there in bed instead of a shallow grave is because I was there to watch your back. You should’ve never left the Kirun in the first place. You think your father was trying to protect you? He was embarrassed of you, and you proved him right at every turn. You think I failed to protect your family? Isn’t protecting your family supposed to be your job? Weren’t they in the Oasis because of you in the first place? Didn’t you abandon them to work in Barcea, knowing full well that they would be at risk in that place?”

She could see that she was hitting all of the nails directly on the head, and watched as each strike drove them further and further into his heart as he squirmed. A cruel smile crept across her face as she took a breath and dove right back in, ready for the kill:

“Face it, you’re a coward. You were born a coward, you’ve always been a coward, and you will always be a coward. You ran to Barcea because you were afraid of Gartian. You didn’t give two single shits about your wife our your daughter—you didn’t even try to argue when you father told you to stay at home and let me handle retrieving them. He should’ve forced you to have gone in his place. Then the Kirun would still have a real ruler and I wouldn’t have to waste all of my fucking free time being the only friend for some hopeless weakling who won’t even do anything to set things rights.”

Too far. She had gone too far. A look of shame crossed her face as she let go of Ennis and stood back up, a hand nervously brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. The rest of the day would be spent apologizing and dealing with the wetworks.

“Shit, Ennis, I’m...I’m sorry,” she said, sincerely. “It’s just that I haven’t been getting much sleep lately and I’ve been frustrated with all of these politics that I think I tried to take it out on—”

“You’re right.”

“—you. It was wrong, and I didn’t mean any of—beg your pardon?”

“Nia, I said that you’re right,” said Ennis, drying his eyes as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “I am a coward. I am a failure. You are my only friend.” He tried to force a smile; Nia bashfully looked away. “But if you think I’m not going to set things right, well, then you are dead wrong. Maybe my father did think I was an embarrassment. He’d be an idiot not to, and from what I can tell he wasn’t an idiot.”

“Really, En, I think he just had your best interests at heart. He just had a pretty poor way of showing that he cared,” said Nia, taking a seat on the bed. She gave a wry smile and added, “Not unlike a certain girl in this room that will not be named, come to think of it.”

“Good,” said Ennis, “because I will need your help.”

“Anything,” she said. “Just name it.”

“I want to avenge my father.”

“Done.”

Ennis leaned forward and Nia moved in the rest of the way, pulling her friend in for a tight hug as she closed her eyes. For a moment the world seemed so much smaller to her. No longer did she have to concern herself with policies or pushy merchants, no longer did she have to worry about the tenuous position her military career was rocking on (for soon it would be plummeting to its grave anyway), no longer did she have to wake up in a cold sweat after an oh-too-real nightmare about her friend taking the easy way out ripped her from the depths of slumber like a rabid dog tearing at a piece of meat. She could just sit in the dark and feel her friend’s body rise in fall in steady rhythm as his warm breath hit her neck, proving to her that he was, in fact, very much alive. Then a log in the fire popped and she was drawn back to being aware of the rest of reality. Pulling away she smiled in the way that a child would before looking down. By the time she looked back up Ennis had settled back against the headboard to rest and the smile on her face was her normal, practiced smile of an unwavering confidence.

“So, regicide it is, then?” she said. “Not the most original of ideas, but even if we fail we’ll be among good company in the history books.”

“We can’t fail,” said Ennis, his hands curling into balls.

“Are you insane?” asked Nia, standing up with a twirl. “Of course we can’t—I’m here! Revali was burnt the minute she dared to fuck with the Kirun.”

Joy

Steam filled the washroom as Joy sunk into the hot bath, the burden of the day escaping from her mouth in a sigh of relaxation. Normally she would’ve been at the school, walking the wooden floor of the training room as steel clashed against steel and wearing her voice hoarse as she barked out corrections and criticisms, but she had given them the day off as her form of an early Silvae’s Celebration gift. Of course, it had really been a gift more for herself: she had run herself ragged over the past few weeks, and had never really taken the proper time to recuperate after their fight with the Advisor. Once Diane had healed her injuries she had begun her new obsession of training their soldiers to actually fight worth a damn. Truth be told, she was just feeling quite exhausted and she needed to take a break.

Unfortunately, there would not be much opportunity for training during a month-long holiday—the school would obviously remain open, but unless she went out and dragged her students in by their ears she doubted anyone would show. She grumbled from underneath the water, her disapproval rising to the surface of the water as bubbles before dissipating. She understood where Cyril was coming from by trying to distract people from the tragedies that the war had incurred, but feasting and swapping presents didn’t prepare them for what was to come. The Manu Propria didn’t stop their schemes just because everyone else is on holiday; whatever they were, they weren’t a damn bank. She groaned. Even if she tried to relax, her mind wouldn’t let her. Joy should’ve just taught the class today; at least her work kept her distracted.

A distraction. Maybe that was what she needed. There were plenty of distractions at the castle—it was the primary reason why she never really stayed there. Cyril had given her a room, of course, but that didn’t stop her from renting her own place outside of the castle walls. She was still close enough to walk, but not comfortably so, and it kept her from getting constant knocks on her door (not that anyone really visited her that often when she did stay in the castle, but the idea that someone could was tiresome enough). Plus, it kept her from prying; after the war she had decided to give Cyril his space, let him mold himself into a proper King instead of influencing him one way or another.

On second thought, letting him make his own decisions unchecked had led the boy to quadrupling the length of the worst time of the year. Joy had always been frustrated by the holiday, and how everyone pretended as if they gave a damn about each other when they were perfectly fine with stepping over their body any other week out of the year. Plus, one of the students had even given her a red ribbon; now she was obliged to get him something in return, and if she got one student something she’d have to get the rest a gift as well or face the consequences of looking as if she was playing favorites. It was an unwanted complication on top of other unwanted complications.

Joy decided she would give the King a piece of her mind. She knew that she wouldn’t convince him to change his mind (he couldn’t even if he wanted to, judging by the way all of her students had been abuzz, and she didn’t want to be the one that ruined Silvae’s Celebration anyway), but it did serve as an excuse for her to go visit the castle and distract herself. Well, okay, and maybe do a little bit of prying. She knew the kind of people Cyril kept company with; who knows what sort of stupid ideas they had given him while she had been busying herself? She believed that the King was smart enough to not listen to some of their more dubious companions and trusted him to make good decisions, but then again: month long celebration.

With those nerve shattering thoughts in mind, Joy practically jumped out of the bath and dried herself off in a hurry as she rushed to get dressed. She grabbed her sword while still buttoning her shirt, and was already halfway out the door before she had completely slipped into her boots. She regretted not grabbing her cloak as the cool air sent a chill through her body, but she was in such a rush that she did not even consider to go back for it despite it only being half a block behind her. Nightmare scenarios ran through her mind: Drosil convincing Cyril to use the castle servants in some bizarre magical experiment, Dal dragging the King to some shady bar in an attempt to impress some women, Alice tricking Cyril with her wiles to let her decorate the castle anyway she saw fit for the holidays, that Paladin even being given a chance to say a single word—Fuck! I should be running!

Joy was out of breath when she reached the castle, and as she steadied herself against a wall she took the second to note that, since her last visit a handful of days ago, the castle had not burnt down in a cooking accident, been demolished in a magical explosion, or rented out to a bunch of hoodlums to pay off gambling arrears. It was a bit too red for her liking, but then again so was the entire city and she’d just have to live with it until things (hopefully) went back to their normal selves. She leaned against the wall, still trying to catch her breath.

“Today was supposed to be about relaxing,” she said, grumbling between huffs.

On the bright side, she had, at the very least, managed to distract herself from the Manu Propria. A few more minutes to herself, she decided, and then she would go see the disasters that had emerged in her absence.

Nia

A black haired woman on a horse raced along the dirt road, a cloud of dust billowing behind in her wake. Nia could see the Barcean capital on the horizon, the peaks of the castle’s towers serving as a beacon. Even from this distance she could see the banners for Silvae’s Celebration dyeing the city red, and combined with a squint and the reflection of the sun it looked almost as if the city itself was on fire. The illusion tickled Nia, as she knew how close to a reality that image had actually been. If things had gone differently, if she had joined the Advisor in her secret assault on the castle, would there even be a Barcean capital to ride to? Would there even be a Barcea, or a need to go to this garbage city in the first place? Obviously not. But there was no point in thinking about what could have been. She had a job to do.

The job was simple: integrate and gather information. Reconnaissance was below her these days, really, but she had promised to help Ennis, and she had no intentions of breaking this one. The information they had now was limited, but all signs pointed to Ennis’s old travelling companions as being the ones that could enlighten them about Revali and her benefactors—she had to have a benefactor to pull off her little stunt. True, Nia could have just gone to the Oasis and turned the whole place into glass, she had even suggested it, but Ennis had made it clear that he would be the one to avenge his father. Nia? She was just the one who would make that possible. So while Ennis gathered his strength, she would gather information.

Sweet words and patience would be her weapons here; no point in tipping her hand by playing too aggressively. Besides, Ennis had proved her with a letter legitimizing her reason for being in Barcea. Nia had laughed outloud when he had explained his idea to her, and even now just thinking of her cover made her smirk. “Ambassador” Tucela. She shook her head as she spurred her horse on, the gates of the city coming into view. I suppose that I do deserve a promotion.

[Sol Grim]

A few knocks came at the door.

"Fuck off!" Dalious shouted.

The door creaked open anyway. In came an aged man, near to be in his eighties, white of hair and beard. He moved slowly into the room, while dragging a long pole along side him. At the top of the pole, there was a large red sheet covering something square shaped. When the old man reached the bed, he let the pole stand on its own as he sat next to Dalious.

"Well, you're already speaking more than normal," the man said with a half smile. "And walking again, I hear?"

"I'm in my prime, Doc," Dalious tried to say with a straight face, but as he tried to laugh his sore ribs pierced him with pain.

"I still don't understand why you don't just let the healers use their magic. All this pain and misery, for what? We know you're a tough guy, we won the war remember?" As the rosy cheeked mister spoke, he began to unveil a gauze from around Dalious' face. Just as the pirate was about to reply, the man grabbed his jaw and started moving it in various ways.

"Awh! Dammit old man!" Dalious spat.

"How does it feel?"

Dalious swatted the man's hand away from his face, then began moving his jaw himself. He looked the healer in the face and gave him a nod of approval.

"Well Dalious, you have healed to your fullest. You'll still be sore for awhile longer, try not to stress your body and continue to regain your strength. But this you already know, don't you? Yet still, you remain in this dark room. So again I ask, why do you refuse magic healing? Your scar there at your shoulder, looks like Diane's work I do believe."

"I was unconscious for that one," Dalious replied, looking at it as if for the first time. "It's nothing against magic, I needed to heal. Body and mind, the right way." Every single night since the battle, he had nightmares. Every night, a new face he had killed would seemingly haunt him. As his body slowly healed from its wounds, so did his mind. He stopped apologizing for his past and found himself accepting what was and what will be. It took a long time, but he needed to go through it on his own. "I've defeated my demons."

"Good! Gooood!" the healer spoke, he bounced up from the bed and to his feet as if he were in his twenties. "If you haven't noticed, there is a party going on. You, being the young man you are, should go out there. Get some sun. Have some fun."

"Actually, as soon as I'm able, I'll be on my own way," Dalious said. "I've served my oath to the King. I told him I would fight for him and I did. There's nothing left for me here. Do me a favor and give them all my best?"

"What did you fight for, if you would just leave it all behind?"

"I told you, mate. I fought to fulfill my oath. Plan was also to get rich along the way, but fuck it, I've got a cool sword and that's fine by me."

"You claim to have fought for honor. An oath. A code. Such is not the pirate way, last I checked. So I ask again, what did you fight for?"

"The divine's hell are you getting at?"

"Maybe you don't see it, but I do," the healer moved over to one of the windows and opened the blinds. A ray of light struck the pirate in the eyes, blinding him momentarily. Dalious shot a hand up to cover the light, while giving him the finger. "You fought for them." Outside was a view of a busy courtyard and a whole lot of red. "They fought for you. You all fought, for one another. As one!"

"I fought because I said I would, and I'm a man of my word," Dalious said. He turned away from the window entirely and started putting on his clothes overtop of the bandages and gauze. "Now, I'm a free agent."

"Be that as it may, the tavern's giving out free ale all night."

"Alright, you talked me into it. Lets go."

The healer gave off a slight chuckle, then headed for the door as he spoke. "Keep your sense of humor, above all else. It's worth more than you know." Just as he was about to leave, something moved the red fabric at the top of the pole he had brought in. "Ah, I almost forgot! I also tend to the orphans here, and some of them came across a few of these..."

He pulled back the red sheet to unveil a small cage at the top of the pole, within it was a small parrot. It was about the size of an open palm, with a body color of sage green, and with yellow and red at the ends of its feathers.

"Hellooo," the small bird squawked.

Dalious sighed. "You really shouldn't have..."

"Isn't he great?" the healer seemed to bounce with joy. "Well, you're a...pirate and all."

"More of a cliché, but thank you."

"Well, then I'll be off. Do think it over, at least." The healer made his exit as Dalious just simply stared at the bird.

"The fuck am I to do with a bird?" he spoke to himself.

"Hellooo."

A pain in his back nearly made him topple over, so he instead decided to lay back down.

"Hellooo."

"Fuck off!"

"Fuck off!"

[Raijinslayer]

Shadar and Diane: Quite the Stubborn Patient

"Are you done yet, Mister Shadar?"

"Kid, what did I say about bothering me while I'm working. . . oh, and look out behind you. Sir Mauls doesn't like to be ignored" Shadar flinched slightly as the kid who'd been bothering him let out a scream of surprise when they found themselves being lifted up into the air by the Deathcrawlers antennae, returned to his place on Sir Mauls' back as he skittered around in a circle undulating his body so as to give the impression of a merry-go-round. The myriad of children on his back, having first been a little intimidated by the intimidating stranger and his strange pet but once they saw how harmless the both of them were, they quickly got over it. The children had come to the castle courtyard at the crown's behest(well, it was actually Shadar's poorly disguised behest to the king during one of his few moments of free time) in the spirit of the celebration.

While Sir Mauls entertained the children(something that was much to the displeasure and worry of the orphanage caretakers that had brought the children over, though understandably so) Shadar had busied himself in drawing and painting various portraits for all of the children from a local orphanage. When asked by the caretaker of the Orphanage why he was doing such a kind thing, he responded with a simple 'because I'm bored' and left it at that. Now he was about half way through the children after about half a day spent working, and he figured that he probably wouldn't be finished until well after the time the children needed to go to bed. Ugh, damn this festival, and why did Cyril have to make it last a month. He could've had the same effect if he'd bumped it up by, like 3 days, but making this damn celebration last a month is overkill, I swear. If I wasn't damn near invalid at the time he'd announced this little tidbit, I would've gone up and told him so, King of Barcea or not.

Shadar muttered curses to himself in one of the many dead languages he knew, making sure it was one of the ones with words too difficult to learn just from hearing them so that none of the children ended up repeating it. Putting the final touches on his current portrait, he took the canvas off the easel and placed it down on the ground with the rest of the completed works, having to move slowly and carefully so as not to aggravate his wounds too much. Just getting out of bed and dealing with the castles many stairs had been a test of his patience as he had to move so slowly and carefully now, or else he'd be struck with pain from the shards of his exoskeleton currently lodged in his back. Goddammit, is this what Vesta felt like when she had her leg all fucked-up? If so, I have a whole new level of respect for that woman, being able to fight as well as she did despite having such an irritating handicap. I wonder how she's doing at the school of hers, though. Shadar picked up another blank canvas from a pile nearby him and soon began working on the next child, calling them over from Sir Mauls to get a good look at their face and profile before moving on to the drawing. If it weren't for these injuries, I'd probably be over at her school right now . . . hell, who am I kidding, I'd be over there anyway, if it wasn't for Diane and her insistence that I lay in my bed like a loaf all day. By the Divines, that woman can be so pushy, I swear. And I know that she knows who's been putting those damn red ribbons in my room, but damn her for keeping it from me. If only Drosil was. . .

Shadar's gentle penstrokes came to a sudden halt as he recalled the thoughts of his brother in recent days. While still trying to remain bright and cheerful amongst others, it was easy to see how bitter and depressed the summoner had become towards the world after the fight with the Advisor. Shadar liked to thing that this was something that his brother would eventually get over it, he was becoming less sure of that with every day. In the conversations they had, his brother's long flowery script had turned into short, jagged words that got right to the point, never once going off on the tangents that Drosil always used to go into on so many topics. And while Shadar enjoyed his new found freedom to walk around, as limited as his movements were, he couldn't help but feel as if his brother's time spent locked away was doing him more harm then good. With a sigh and another ancient curse, the giant went back to his delicate work, needing to occupy his mind with something other than his brother's condition. As things currently were. . . all he could really do was hope for the best.

Unfortunately, free time with the children wouldn't be lasting much longer. After tending to the idiot (Christopher), she had been visited by one of the other reckless fools (Stark) and had to heal some small but numerous wounds for her. This had put her slightly behind, but it didn't annoy her as much as what happened next... Or, rather, what didn't happen next. There was someone else she had been expecting (more like two people), but they hadn't of shown up... So now, not only was she behind, but she was having to search for another miscreant.

The noise of Diane's heels clicking through the hallways of the castle was a well known one to the Sentinels, and those who heard it typically had a rightful desire to flee. After all, getting in front of Diane in these moments, as she stormed through the hallway with a look of pure irritation on her face, was a death sentence; being the subject of her death sentence was worse than a death sentence, and was often joked about being terrible for one's descendants as well.

Not that they ever joked about it in front of her.

She didn't find who she was looking for in the hallways, but that didn't stop her. She didn't care if they weren't in the castle at all, or if they were somewhere in the city streets, or outside of the Capitol entirely, in another country; she would find them, and they would rue the day they were born.

Thankfully, she didn't have very far to go to find her victim, as they were just outside. Apparently, Shadar was the one out once again for that day, and he had apparently surrounded himself with children. That wouldn't stop her, and she didn't care if children were nearby for what came next. No, she had red in her eyes, and was more than ready to use the staff in her hand and the ones that she carried to make an example.

"You.

Shadar heard the infamous clacking of heels long before Diane and let out a long sigh as it continued to grow louder and more pronounced, a sign of his approaching irritation. He didn't bother turning around to face the woman as she let out a single word, coated in no uncertain levels of menace, as obviously his absence from wherever she expected him to be had irritated her a great deal as well. Instead, he continued his work, trying to get the arc of this on girl's brow just right. She had a bit of a scar running across from some accident she'd had a while back and for some reason he was having a difficult time replicating it the way he wanted to.

"Yes, me. Do you need something or are you going to attempt to bore a hole in the back of my head. As you can see, I'm a bit busy at the moment and the last thing I need is distractions. Especially loud, bossy ones." Unlike a majority of their group, it seemed, Shadar held no fear of Diane, though he did hold some amount of respect for her as a healer, hence why he was curbing his gruffness ever so slightly for her. Well, that and the fact that their were children about, though he doubted that Diane would afford the same self-control if the emotions he could feel radiating off of her were anything to go by. Divines be damned, Is one day of quiet too much to ask for. . . what am I saying, of course it is.

While Shadar held no fear of Diane, she held no fear of him in return. In fact, she hadn't even been startled by his first appearance after all, so that fear had never been there. With one hand on her hip after she came to a stop, the other brought the staff up, using the (makeshift weapon and) healing tool to point at him threateningly. With how irritated she was, it was almost as if darkness was on her side, not Shadar's in the moment.

"There will be no attempt about it, let me tell you. You're no different from any of the rest of the idiots; you pretend you're fine and do whatever you like, skipping even basic healing practices to do something else. Why do you do it? Masochism? To prove a point to your own ego? Whatever the reason is, enough stupidity is enough, so come along quietly or I'm going to drag you away in front of your little friends here."

Diane was much, much smaller than Shadar and that was an obvious fact, and yet when she said that she spoke with the utmost confidence.

A line of ink crumbled to dust as Shadar erased the line he'd just put down, still struggling with the damn scar, and still refusing to face the demanding healer as she rattled off on him. As she threatened to drag him away, Shadar merely continued struggling with his inability to draw this damnable scar. It was so close, and yet something about it was just off enough to keep him from progressing past it and onto the rest of the child's face. If Shadar had possessed eyebrows, they'd be furrowed with great focus and agitation. "Well, while you're free to think whatever you want, it's not going to change the simple fact that you can't make me do anything and like I said earlier, I'm busy with something else right now. What do you need to do that can't be done right here? Just wave that tiny stick around, say a few magic words and be done with it. Give the little ones a pretty light show."

Shadar gestured to where the children were, watching the argument unfold from Sir Mauls' back, who was also watching the proceedings with rapt attention. A few chattering clicks were sent Shadar's way and quickly met with a stubborn grunt.

Diane didn't respond, not verbally. Even before Shadar had finished speaking she was approaching him, her eyes narrowed. The staff came up, held in both hands, and then swung harshly. If Shadar had been completely fine, it would have done nothing, but he wasn't. Furthermore, she had been healing him more than enough to know where all of the broken points of his armor were, and where his own carapace stabbed more deeply into his flesh. It was along his back, where one deeper line of cracks and damaged areas were, that her staff hit with a surprising amount of accuracy. Pain would explode through his back even as the staff shattered in her hand, and she reached down to the bag she carried to already prepare the next.

"Would you like me to do it again? I have plenty ready."

Shadar should have been able to easily block the strike, even as wounded as he was. From the sounds of her approach to the swirl of emotions he could feel radiating off of her, it was easy to predict what she had in mind and, using some thinking, where she'd likely strike. A quick movement of his hand and summoning his Greatsword to him, and the strike would've been blocked. But Shadar didn't do that. Not because he thought he could take but because he didn't think she would actually go through with it. He'd underestimate how much of a sadist this woman was, a mistake he'd not soon forget.

The strike didn't cause much of a visible reaction for Diane or those watching the spectacle, but it obviously had a clear effect as the special pen that Shadar used for drawing had been snapped in half by the sudden tensing of his clawed hand when the pain of the hit ripped through his body. Turning slowly to glare at the healer with a single glowing white eye, Shadar placed the broken instrument gently back into his bag, shaking ever so slightly as he held in the torrent of anger that urged him to lash out at her for what she had made him do. "If you weren't one of Cyril's Sentinels, I swear to the Divnes I'd. . .*sigh* fine. If you're going to be so insistent on it." With a muttering grumble of some less then pleasant phrases sent the healer's way from under his breath, Shadar slowly rose from his chair. Each movement was met with a wince of pain a Diane's strike had aggravated all o his injuries to some degree. "You know, Diane, I've never wanted to strike someone so much as I do you right now. That is including the damned Advisor."

Diane laughed; she did so just once, and it was a noise of quite a specific, measured volume; one loud enough to drown out anything nearby, and show her contempt and amusement in just one sound. Of course, being Diane, she had to follow it up with a quip as well: "You couldn't hit me hard enough to make me blush, so don't give yourself credit where it isn't due. Hurry up, I've already wasted enough time chasing after you in the first place." With that she turned sharply on her heel, and began to briskly walk away. Every so often she stopped and waited for Shadar as they made their way back into the castle and through the hallways, but she always did so with her arms crossed and an impatient tap in her step. Eventually, they had made it back to the room that had, in a way, become an unofficial clinic.

"You know the drill; take a seat so we can get this started already."

"Do you truly want to test that theory, Diane, cause at the moment, I'm much more than willing to oblige." Shadar responded to Diane's mockery with an irritated glare, wondering what events in this woman's life lead her to be a healer and cursing each and every single one of them. Following the woman through the castle was equally infuriating, not only because of the slow and steady pace that his injured body forced him to move at, but because every time he looked ahead, that damnable woman was waiting for him, the sound of her heeled shoe tapping against the stone floors of the castle only serving to aggravate his irritation.

By his side clacked Sir Mauls, who had become something of a helper to the giant during his recovery, staying by his side at all sides, despite the attempts of some to extricate the Deathcrawler or dissuade him from doing so. The many compounded facets of Sir Mauls' eyes were also focused on Diane, and whenever they got close enough, he'd give a very clear sign of his displeasure with the woman in the form of a spitting hiss, rearing up a little as he did so, seemingly in an attempt to intimidate the foul woman with his sizable mandibles.

When hey finally arrived in the infirmary, Shadar took the position as Diane ordered of him, the walk taking too much out of him to even think about being difficult at the moment. The spot where she had struck him earlier felt as if it was burning from how much pain was centered there, and he wouldn't be surprised if a small trail of blood had been formed on the way up from the courtyard.

"Let's just get this over with."

"I agree entirely." With that, the woman stepped over, carrying just one staff with her. Now that Shadar was finally here, she wasn't anticipating on having to break another one against him like she often had to do with Christopher, so all of the extra ones were left in the corner.

She stood behind Shadar, the staff held in both hands. For a moment she was still, and then she held the staff as close to the wound that she had hit as she possibly could, where her hands and staff together began to glow. Her eyes shut, and the glow began to slowly travel from her to him, flowing along the wound. With anyone else, there would have been an immediate result, but Shadar was... difficult, to put it mildly. Rather than the wound stitching itself back together in a matter of seconds, it just began to slowly shrink, so slowly that even as the minutes began to tick by it had barely changed at all.

Despite that, she kept up at it for as long as she could, her eyes shut the entire time. It took so much effort, concentrating this healing ability into something beneficial for Shadar, that her brow was furrowed and she even eventually began to sweat. The seconds kept ticking by-

And then, suddenly, she gasped as the staff simply dissolved away in her hands. With a slight tremble to her fingertips she pulled away, beginning to walk back towards the corner she had put her extra staffs at; there was a slight wobble in her step, though it was soon correctly. However, after she bent over she slowly straightened, and only then did she say, "I'm done for the day. Go."

"Thanks." Shadar muttered as he got himself, enjoying the slight relief from his pain. He took a few steps towards the door, rubbing the back of his helmeted head before coming to a stop at the doorway. "You know you don't have to do this, right? It'll take a shit long time, but I'll heal by myself eventually. You don't have to pushing yourself to heal me. I'm able to walk around, paint, and fight just fine, so stop bothering me about this already. I'm sure you've got plenty to worry about with the Paladin's foul-mouthed little assistant."

Letting his hand drop to his side, he dug around in his pack for a bit before taking out a few rolls of paper, somewhat messily bound with red ribbon. Shadar set them on a nearby counter-top, and started hobbling his way out, his only explanation being curt and gruff as one might expect. "Don't get any ideas, I only used this damn ribbon because it's all over the place. Might as well make some better use out of it then just hanging around like useless pieces of crap. And with that, Shadar left the room with a huff, Sir Mauls clattering along not far behind the giant.

If Diane took the time to look at the bundle, she'd find three pieces of Shadar's work, one painting and two drawings. The painting was one of the Princess Ayano sitting calmly with a small smile, the soft white of her dress and hair surrounded by a room bedazzled in the color red, the many shades and hues intermingling with each other in a vibrant array to enhance the innocent beauty of the subject. The next picture was of Diane herself, a drawing of her holding one of her rods squarely in hand, postured like a regal queen greeting her subjects, though the look in her eyes made it clear that she wasn't afraid to take this rod and beat you over the head with it if you drew her ire. The backdrop to her in this was the Barcean Blue, the symbol for the Sentinels somewhat hidden within the shifting hues that made it up, but visible enough to be easily seen once one actively looked into the background in order to discern the oddity of the patterns. The final drawing was a group picture of all the Sentinels standing together, surrounding their King with smiles and friendly embraces amidst a field of greenery. Unlike the quick sketches that Shadar had done for the kids, these works were clearly ones the Shadar had taken great time and painstaking effort into creating and perfecting every detail, making them look as if they were almost real.

Within the bundles was a small scrap of paper that read thusly in a jagged, messy script "I hate owing people, and since I'm crap broke, these will have to suffice. Keep 'em, burn 'em, do whatever, I don't care. From, Shadar."

Diane would indeed look at the bundle and the works within, but only after Shadar had been gone for a few minutes, and she had recovered her breath after quietly sitting for awhile. She slowly stood when the time came, making her way over to the counter to carefully open what he had left behind; when she saw what was within, her eyes briefly widened before she began to closely examine each work, one at a time. After awhile, she ended up smiling as she rolled them all together once again.

"What a frustrating oaf."

[The Darklight Project]

The Capitol - Hallways

Trying to teach Calypso anything was a very hit or miss affair. Sometimes the woman learned quite quickly, but that was usually with practical, physical things, tasks that involved movements of some sort, and often repetitive in some way. Concepts, on the other hand, had a much harder time sticking in her brain it seemed, and it was often easier to tell her to do something, and refrain from telling her why. When it came to the matter of Silvae's Celebration, however, Calypso seemed quite interested and more importantly had a rare moment of clarity; for once, the King had very little trouble trying to get her to understand something that didn't involve practice or combat.

Unfortunately such a pleasant conversation would be interrupted sooner rather than later. Even as they continued around the curve of the castle, discussing where Calypso could acquire more ribbons (something she seemed very interested in), her eyes fluttered in a few distracted blinks; just a moment later and a servant was stopping in front of them, bowing and having to catch his breath after having run the entire way there. Cyril had to hear only a few words before pushing past and then running to the main entrance, leaving the still recovering servant with a somewhat confused Calypso behind.

Both Alasa and Sampson were there, and despite the fact both were obviously uninjured he already knew that something was very, very wrong. As the King came to a stop he was already asking, "What happened-?!"

"It's Yihira, King Serio. Yihira's gone."

"How?!"

"We don't know, we were there long after it happened, and... it was terrible, Cyril. I haven't seen anything like it since..."

For a moment Cyril was silent, tensed up as his mind raced. Even though he would have said he couldn't believe something like this would happen, he had already seen the death of multiple rulers in his lifetime, and it almost felt like he should have expected another one so soon. But it was Yihira who was gone, someone who was so bright, who was so compassionate, one of the first to be ready to help Barcea...

"Can you still ride?"

"Of course." Even though he was clearly very tired, Alasa's reaction came immediately, and even Sampson quickly straightened from where he was using the wall as support, forcing his breath to even out even as his lungs probably screamed at him.

"Take men, and a cart. Go get her, bring her back here. Make sure everything's covered so it doesn't raise a panic. I'll go tell Kisarin now."

"Now? Are you sure you want to do that alone-?"

"Kisarin might be big, but he's no rampaging maniac. He'll take it out on something that can't feel it. Go, otherwise you'll lose the light."

---

The Capitol - Spare Room

With another roar Kisarin's arm lashed out, forearm collided with pillar; the latter broke, the third victim of the day. The first had been immediately after hearing the news from Cyril, the second in the terrible wait that followed, and the third from finally seeing his sister's body laid out, the best attempt possible having been made to keep both halves together. Nearby, pieces of what was left of the guards had attempted to be placed with the correct body; Cyril was not jealous of whoever had done that work at all.

The cart that had been taken had returned with its grim burden, covered so that the gore beneath wouldn't clash against the red of the ribbons all around. The general population had no idea what was being carried along by horses and led by the two Sentinels in the front, all the way to the castle. More guards had been waiting for them, and quickly the cart and its contents were moved inside, organized, and finally both the King of Barcea and a Chieftain of Gurata entered.

While Kisarin had reacted in anger, Cyril had quietly crossed both arms, allowing the (decidedly more massive) man to vent his rage simply as he inspected the corpses. Alasa stood even closer, crouching in the midst of them, and it was to him Cyril addressed his question.

"Don't know exactly. The tracks around the site made no sense. There was no combat, no galloping, nothing like that. And there were no extra tracks as well, horse or human. It was like they were attacked from a range, but look at them. This wasn't the work of any arrow, or something thrown; there weren't any marks like that either."

"Some sort of spirit, or a flying monster, or-?"

"Could be, but... I know we're both thinking the same thing. It's way too convenient. And I'm no monster hunter, but I didn't see any signs pointing to that anyway. And there's no sign of..." Slowly, Alasa looked to Kisarin before continuing, a little quieter, "Consumption, or anything like that. Not even from scavengers, which is... odd."

"So... Certainly foul play."

"Oh, there's no doubt." Kisarin almost snarled this, even as he stalked his way over. "No beast would get the better of Yihira short of some breed of dragon. And I don't see any fucking burn marks, do you?"

There was no need to answer Kisarin, and so neither the King nor Sentinel did. Instead, they all simply looked down for a while, before the King slowly looked back up to Kisarin. "Would you like us to leave for now?"

"Later, King. When you're done with your investigation."

Alasa was moving even before Cyril waved his hand slightly, the King saying, "There's nothing more we can find here for the time being. We'll leave you be." Outside the two went, and once the door was shut they stood a few steps away, the King crossing his arms once again, thinking deeply while Alasa fiddled with his own glove; he quickly listened up when Cyril spoke once again. "We need to begin investigating, any way we can. Figure out who did this if we can. Bandits, dissenters, a revenge attack from those who favored Gartian... Or Kori? We can't just let this slide."

"Of course not. How do you want us to go about this?"

"You, Sampson, Gortul, all of you head out, scout the villages, forest, fields, and interrogate any ruffian you can find. Diane will stay here, figure out what else she can from the corpses. Vesta, Christopher, Calypso, Stark, Alice, Dalious, I want them all here in the Capitol, working the ground. Drosil can either help Diane, or Shadar can help them, whichever one is present. And then we need to send a messenger to H'kela, see what they know on the matter. Inform us if there are any particularly aggressive factions or cults from the old regime. That'll take two days, so I want you all back here on that second day, in case news is brought; we'll regroup anyway."

---

The Capitol - A Day of Searching

Quickly, the orders were sent out, and the feeling of cheer brought on by the season became immediately muffled among those close to the King in any degree. With their tasks assigned, out the Sentinels and their allies went, trying to find any sort of sign or hint to bring back home to the castle. It was like chasing smoke, and there was nothing to be found. Even the Sentinels who went out into the field, chasing down bandit groups and, more often than not, aggressively forcing their way into the camps unlike they had ever done before, demanding information. The criminals knew nothing.

It was like that in even the more civilized areas as well, in the towns and the Capitol itself; in fact, it was probably more difficult. To keep a panic from spreading everywhere, their questions had to be pointed precisely, picking only at the details, and even then it could only be directed towards those who might know something, without spreading the information erroneously as well.

It was difficult work, and arguably a waste of time, and the King knew that; however, for the moment, it was the only thing that they could do for the time being, while they waited for the messenger who was sent to H'kela to return...

---

H'kela - A Message to the Palace

The sun bore down, wind whipped through the streets and halls of the palace. The smells of old war and rebuilding could still be scented on the dry air. The evening sky was the glorious blue and streaked white that only comes in the H'kelian sky. Nasir stood with one of his soldiers at his side on the balcony that stood just off the main hall. His mind was quiet, still in a near meditative state from the quiet of the past months. The old soldier knew it would not last. It never did. Every storm was just the precursor to another, the time in between only there to make the foolish think all storms had passed.

"Protector Nasir." a voice from behind the veteran said before the sound of a sharp salute came to his ears.

Nasir turned with practiced parade precision and thumped his partisan's butt on the hard stone floor by his feet, the sound echoing off the walls and out into the open air. "Report." the gruff voice of Nasir replied.

"A messenger arrives from Barcea, urgent news."

Nasir had no words for the soldier, he only nodded and the man led him to this messenger. The two walked through the halls with the surety and speed of men who knew those passages like they were born in them. Servants dared not look up from their duties at the two. No, they dared not look at Nasir. he had scolded many servants for gawking, either at him or any dignitaries that they had received. He enforced their place as servants and reminded them that service and perfection of task was the best way to live their lives. Many resented his hard stance, but, none would speak out against him. His reputation and current standing made him beyond reproach from nearly everyone but the Queen herself.

Soon enough they reached the messenger. Nasir's natural glower deepened at him. He knew he was going to be some soft green-lander, but, knowing never made it easier to see them. The messenger was flanked by two powerful young guards that Nasir had personally selected to be the door guards of the palace. He looked nervous and out of breath. The Commander of the Queensguard eyed the man with his aged and dark stare, taking in his measure. "Well?" His word leaving with a thick accent, even evident in the short question. He hated using their language. It was brash and have no music to it.

The messenger seemed to be taken a back at the chilly reception from the Commander, "Ummm, my message is for the Queen, sir. I am not to deliver it to anyone else."

Nasir ground his teeth slightly, "Give to me the direct meaning of this message, then we shall be seeing the Queen." he looked over to the large soldier that stood to the messenger's right, "Or, I will have my man beat you to death and we will have the message now."

The messenger blinked, astonished not only at the seemingly unnecessary threat but also the seriousness and nonchalance that it was delivered. He quickly thought that it would be best to just give this man what he wanted and escape with his bones all in the right places, "Yes, the message concerns the death of Lady Yihira. We are requesting-"

"Enough." Nasir waved his hand in dismissal. Now he knew this man had something serious to deliver, not just petty Barcean nonsense. "Speak not of such things in open air. Do they not teach you where you come from?" he scolded. He was not angry the man had complied, just disappointed at his lack of tact.

The messenger shut his mouth, realizing there was no way he was getting out of this without offending this man. The Commander held out his hand toward the man, expectantly. With a sigh of relief the messenger dug into his belt bag and produced a sealed scroll case. He placed it in the Commander's hand and nodded. Nasir nodded to the man and withdrew his hand holding the smooth cylindrical object. Nasir's eyes moved back to the large guard, "Take him to the sitting room. Keep him there in case he is needed for later." his words returning to his mother tongue. Without waiting for confirmation about his orders, he turned and began to stride back into the palace. Scroll in hand and mind set on one thing. Finding the Queen. Whatever was happening in Bracea it would soon concern her if it did not already. Things like this had a way of rippling outward. He made a note in his mind to increase patrol lengths as well, if there were assassins he would need to be ready.

The Commander strode up to the Queen, heedless of what she was doing. Other things could wait. Matters of state always came first. Besides, he had her schedule for the day committed to memory and knew whatever he might be interrupting was of little real importance. He Stopped before her and bowed deeply, resting his partisan on his shoulder, in perfect form. Without looking up he extended his left hand holding the scroll case toward Revali. "A message from Bracea. It seems to be of great importance, Your Majesty."

Nasir didn't have far to go, or any real difficulty in finding the Queen whatsoever; while she was set in her habits and often disinterested in politics in general, for her credit she at least made the effort to make herself somewhat available unlike before, and to do what she could in clear view. Thanks to her interests the only thing she could really do outside of closed rooms was simply studying for her next goal, so when Nasir entered the throne room he would see how she was sitting on the throne, one of her massive tomes sitting across her lap.

At first, she didn't even respond to what Nasir had to say; she was much too focused on what was in front of her. However, she seemed to at least be listening, considering how she ended up reaching forward without looking up, taking the case with her fingertips. Still reading, she opened the case and spread out the scroll over her book, seamlessly going from a complicated set of instructions involving some sort of dark ritual to what was happening a nation away. It took only a moment.

"Chieftain Yihira was assassinated in Barcean lands, on the way to join King Serio and her brother for the ongoing celebration there. Of course, that's a nightmare on its own level." She spoke quite dryly, not even the slightest hint of inflection in anything she said. Holding the scroll out, she whispered a word and immediately a change came over the paper: first more wrinkles appeared, and then it began to rapidly yellow and darken before simply crumpling away. Both hands then shut the book, holding it as she stood.

"The scene of the murder contained no evidence of who or what did it; no tracks of any sort, nothing discarded, and it seems while what killed the Chieftain had been a relatively smooth blow, the other two had been absolutely butchered." She stepped down, walking past Nasir, purpose in her step even if her voice sounded utterly disinterested. The heavier fabric she wore over the thinner material hissed gently with each step. "They're wondering if, possibly, and group here may have been the cause, but aren't accusing us; how kind of them. However, I don't think we can help them when it comes to that; anyone who isn't happy here is too busy figuring out how to kill me, rather than anyone else from Gurata."

About halfway down the throne room she stopped, thinking herself for just a moment. As she did so, she ran her fingers along the pages of her tome, playing with them slightly without opening it. Her eyes closed for one second, and then two, before she looked over her shoulder towards the Commander. "It seems that there's someone out there who is wanting to cause a little chaos, killing Guratan power players in Barcean lands. Would I be wrong in assuming that, if left alone, it would only be a matter of time before something similar happened here? Perhaps I should move in advance to keep anything like that from happening, then. What do you think, Commander?"

Nasir fell in behind the Queen as she walked the throne room. A step behind and to her right, his place. He made as little noise as possible as they walked, making sure not to disturb her thought process or interrupt her. Nasir admired the Queens disconnected disposition. He had known plenty of leaders that reacted with passion and emotions, most were now dead. The Queen's mind was sharp, even if she did set it to research and rituals instead of placing serious state-craft in place. She was not bad at being a ruler, far from it, just, Nasir was not entirely comfortable around a scholar Queen. He had spent plenty of time with his face buried in books when he was in training. The time for training had passed, now was the time of implementation.

The Commander stopped when his Queen did, waiting for her to address him. She of course did. "Your instincts are sharp as ever, Your Majesty. This attack was obviously meant as a message of terror. Fear is an effective weapon when aimed at the upper crust of society, nobles in the greenlands scare easy. If we allow this to go unchecked the assassins will soon be at our own doorstep, just as you have implied." Nasir frowned and stroked his well-groomed graying bread with his left hand, thinking. "Taking an aggressive stance against this foe would be best. Time is their ally, not our's, we should take that time from them." he rested his hand on his chin and moved his gaze to meet that of the Revali as she looked at him over her shoulder, "You will not be safe though, Your Majesty. If you take any personal action you will be exposed to more threats. One cannot strike a foe without exposing his own hand for counter-stroke. I counsel caution in your actions, Your Majesty." His grip tightened on the haft of his weapon slightly, anticipation. These events were something more than bandits playing at assassins. The months of peace would likely be coming to a swift end very soon. "You will need my best men around you at all times, and myself to guide them, Your Majesty. Placing Your Majesty at risk for the opportunity to nip this in the bud is worthwhile, but, we cannot allow any harm to come to you. Another lost ruler for our H'kela would be devastating." he hardly needed to remind the Queen of that. Nasir she knew it well, but, if he did not voice his concerns then he would be entirely at fault if they were overlooked.

"Noted, Commander." For a moment the Queen was silent once again as she looked back forward, but she didn't continue to walk. The two stood like that for a while, one of Revali's fingers very lightly tapping the bound cover of her book, as her eyes once again shut before opening once again; she started to walk, and spoke again without looking back. "Prepare what we need to go to Barcea, then. I cannot do anything from here besides send my regrets, and those would be worth less than the paper they'd be written on. Better to actually do something instead, and I doubt there is anyone in Barcea able to provide the skills I can... or have the ability to do."

The doors were swung open by waiting guards by the time the two of them reached that point, and out in the hallway Revali took one step towards the left, which led to her room; despite the fact she was now Queen, she had chosen to remain in the same small room that she had lived in for many years, as the forgotten illegitimate child that she was. Before heading any farther, she once more looked to Nasir to say, "I need to gather a few basic supplies, and some tomes. You have thirty minutes to prepare what's needed, and then we leave."

And, with that, the Queen once more continued on her way, opening the massive book even as she walked.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Nasir bowed as the Queen moved away and toward her meager rooms. He watched her go with a deep frown on his face. His displeasure had nothing to do with the trip they would soon be embarking on. No, that would go quickly and be safe enough. The old Commander was annoyed at his queen's insistence on staying in the closet that she had lived in when she was a girl. He remembered her when she was just some half-blood girl running about in the halls. He had been younger then too, just a guard, a skilled one but not yet in his position. Her room had been fitting for her situation back then, now, they were shameful. He would need to start talking to her more seriously. It had been months and she still slept in a room barely fit for a servant. She walked about with her nose in books and neglected her poise and position. He was unsure how that conversation would go. He was not her father nor was he in a real position to instruct her. Perhaps he could frame it as a matter of security, their people were not known to tolerate weakness and her living in a small room and always reading could be seen as just that. Nasir put the thought from his mind for now. Later. Now he needed to get to work. He only had thirty minutes after all.

A deep breath filled his lungs as he turned and then was expelled in a deep booming shout as he began to walk and bellow orders. Everyone in ear shot fell in line and began the preparations that he ordered. There was no room for dally or disobedience when it came to The Commander. Bodies rushed to get together the list of guards he was bellowing out as other servants rushed to get horses and supplies ready. The whole palace flew into a state of busied excitement, a hive of bees stirred to motion in an instant.

As the slotted time came to a close, Nasir, stood facing the group of fifty men he had selected, with another fifty servants and all of their needed equipment. It would not befit the Queen to travel any lighter. Her needs would need to be seen to, and, his men's needs would also need to be attended. The poor Barceans would just have to find the room for them. They were good at hosting guests, little more. He had reports that the horses needed were already set and saddled. He would expect nothing less. His hard eyes scanned the men before him, all in armor and holding their spears. Each of them were veterans, friends, brothers. All had at least some magical talent. He had a sinking feeling that they would be needing these men for more than just spooking bandits. Nasir heard the door behind him open, it could only be one person, their Queen. He pounded the butt of his spear on the hard stone floor letting a thunderous crack ring out, all of the soldiers fell into parade posture instantly. Ready for inspection.

Precisely thirty minutes after the order was given, the Queen of H'kela arrived. She had placed on something slightly heavier to cloak her body from the sun, and even had a veil pulled across her face and over her head as well, in two separate pieces. She had barely given a glance down the line before pulling herself up onto her horse. With her, she carried a heavy bag at her side and a book under an arm, and yet she refused to part with either.

"Let us be off."

---

The Capitol - The Queen's Arrival

The sudden arrival of a royal H'kelan retinue was quite unexpected by the general public of Barcea, and the first reaction was one of trepidation. After all, two months ago the sudden war had come to an end, and with it had been the death of royalty on both sides. There had been years of animosity before that, so as much as the King tried to push that the time for change had come it was still difficult to ignore all of the history...

But Revali had the advantage of the holiday working for her, and had planned for such. Immediately upon her arrival, those in her train began to throw out gifts, of all kinds so long as it wouldn't shatter; money, food and treats, flowers, anything like that was passed out. The main color, of course, was Silvae's red, but with that came H'kelan gold. It was in this way that the Queen kept the Barceans pacified, all the way to the waiting Barcean shoulders at the gate to the inner wall.

With the inner wall came peace, and no more handing out of gifts. Anything extra was put away, and soon the group was arriving at the castle itself. The King himself was waiting, with those Sentinels that had returned, and he remained in front of the open doors as Revali approached.

"Welcome, Queen Revali. I greatly appreciate your response to our plea for assistance, but I wasn't expecting to see you yourself."

"There is nothing I can do from a country away. Show me the remains."

The King only gave a nod, and from there immediately led the Queen into the castle, with some of her guard following while the others began to prepare for the short stay that they would be having. When they arrived, the King wasted no time before leading her in; of anyone, Revali probably needed the least amount of warning. For a few moments, the Queen of H'kela was completely silent. She stood in the midst of the gore, crouched down into it, and even placed her hands within it, showing no concern for her own attire or appearance. Though she was focused on the bits and pieces of what had been the guards to begin with, she soon turned to focus on Yihira, shoving her hands along the severed intestines, often pulling them out to check for some perceived damage-

"I do not have all of the supplies I need with me, as I was not anticipating something this devastating. Even now, I can feel there is no point in attempting to bring a soul back for interrogation; the bonds with the bodies have been completely severed unnaturally. The best I can do is recreate the scene, and that will be merely with the Chieftain herself. The others are too gone physically to be of any use."

"Recreate the scene?" Cyril's confusion was quite clear, and with it there was a hint of revulsion, as if he knew what was coming next would be wrong on some level. "What do you mean...?"

"We'll be able to see how the Chieftain died, how her final moments were spent to some degree. It will be just her, but perhaps some detail will make itself known."

Revali spoke callously, and briefly Cyril glanced to Kisarin before answering; the nod that was given in return made him feel like he could actually speak. "Very well then. What are you going to need?"

"Poisonous mushrooms of any kind, frog eyes, dog marrow, thumbs, pig intestine-"

"Wait, thumbs?"

"Preferably of criminals."

"That's horri-"

"Then that of some form of ape, but don't blame me for incorrect results."

"Dammit- hold on a minute please, Revali, let me get someone to send... Sampson!"

---

The Capitol - A Matter of Ingredients

The already messy hair of the Sentinels' resident glutton was even more haphazard than it usually was, thanks to his incessant rubbing. He was nervous, and for a few good reasons. After all, he hadn't been expected to be called upon to gather supplies for the Queen of H'kela, and hadn't had paper ready until about halfway through her list; there were almost thirty things that she wanted. He wasn't sure he had written everything down properly, but even that didn't matter; he had been so rushed that most of it had become illegible, even before he had to stuff it into his pocket.

"Not good, not good..."

All he really knew is that he needed to find some form of alchemy shop, or anything of the like to begin with. Then, from there... Well, he could pick a Divine and pray, at the least.

The front of Godfrey's shop had been converted to a partial infirmary after the wounded had trickled back home. Those that had infections, sicknesses, or wounds that magic would not fix fully were split into the places in the city that had the capability to care for them in their convalescence, and his Alchemy Square was no exception. A bit of a reputation with the locals for having affordable and effective medicines and health supplements may have helped in bringing him to the attention of the Guard, who'd half-requested, half-requisitioned his space.

Honestly, he didn't mind very much. Business on the front end had been slightly slow of late, and he welcomed the government-sponsored clientele. He busied himself with the rows of bottles and jars on the shelf behind his counter, taking a close inventory of his stocks. He'd need to get more supplies for his work soon, probably.

"How're you feeling today, Cliff?" he casually called over his shoulder to the man who sat on a makeshift cot near his door.

"Right well, an' there's no doubt there, son!" replied the man with a hearty belly laugh. "Another day or so an' a bit more o' tha' salve an' I'll be out o' your hair, sure."

Godfrey grinned. He liked Cliff. He'd be a bit sorry to see him go, but then, he was one of the last few patients left in his shop. The silence and privacy would be nice to have again. It was surprisingly difficult to carry on his... other business when people were staying in the front of his shop. He set to mixing another batch of antiseptic.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and a rather frantic-looking man trundled in, followed by the lady that always bought flower supplements from his shop. The man was out of breath, but the lady smiled warmly. "Godfrey! Good day to you! This man says he needs an alchemist, and I told him I'd show him the best one in town," she said.

Godfrey bowed slightly, and winked. "Surely you're in the wrong shop, then," he said, and they both chuckled a bit. "My name is Godfrey. I'm an alchemist, yes. What can I do for you?"

Sampson hadn't really been ready for the sudden change of scene. He hadn't even really spoken to the flower lady, had just been mumbling nervously to himself, and then the next thing he knew he had found himself being pushed along. When the shop came into sight, he briefly recognized it; after all, the Guard was regularly using it, so he had heard of it many times, and had it pointed out to him once or twice as well. What he didn't quite understand how alchemy would come into play here, but Sampson was no expert on medicine and its related arts. He was well aware of that fact, at least.

Once more, Sampson's hand tussled his own hair, before he spoke. "Sorry to bother you, truly. I have quite a large list, and..." He didn't know whether it was a good idea to mention Revali or not yet, so he chose to err on the side of caution and continued with, "a mage needs them, quite quickly. However, I didn't recognize all the ingredients, and I was rushed and... I apologize..."

He held the list forwards then, with both hands. With half of it smudged or illegible and most of the other half most likely misspelled thanks to the complicated nature of the ingredients, calling it a mess would be being nice to Sampson.

"Do you possibly recognize... anything at all, and can provide it?"

There was something almost comical about the way the man half-mumbled his request. Godfrey kept his chuckle behind locked doors, though, and took the list from his hands. A mage, huh? Must be one of the healers. Let's take a look... he thought.

"Surely," he began, and looked over the list for a moment. "...saltpeter, that's potassium nitrate-- I have some here. Poisonous mushrooms? I might have some amanita bisporigera samples, but those are really dangerous. Wonder why they would-- oh, oil of vitriol, this must be for getting rid of some kind of septic infection. This list is pretty varied," he said, looking back up to the man. "I have a lot of this stuff, but there's a bunch of really esoteric materials on this list. I don't know if I am comfortable just handing it over to you, if you'll pardon my forwardness. It's simply that many of these items are poisonous or noxious, and if they were to be lost or something, might cause trouble. And, as you can see," he said, and gestured toward Cliff, "my shop is nearly free of trouble now."

As he talked, he began gathering bottles, jars, and little parcels from the shelves behind the counter. For some of the more... interesting ingredients, however, he'd have to duck into the back and gather them from his other work's supplies. Not that he had any other work, of course-- he was just a chemist. Of course.

"I can get you a lot of what's on this list, certainly, and I would be happy to accompany you to wherever it is that you would deign to take them. After all, there would be the matter of payment for these materials, as well..."

He didn't have any thumbs.

Patiently Sampson waited, just watching as the other man moved back and forth, beginning to gather supplies. It seemed like the Sentinel had stumbled upon a miracle worker, and for the first time in the past thirty minutes Sampson felt like he could relax a little. Somehow the alchemist was discerning what he meant from those misspelled names and smudges.

He wasn't really listening as the man spoke to himself about the different ingredients, but when pay came up he immediately straightened slightly. "Oh, of course. I have this-" Down he reached, carefully pulling out a decently large pouch full of coins, which he set on the counter. "We weren't sure what the full price would be, considering the nature of some of the materials, so C- the King sent this an advance. You'd receive the rest once we knew how much it all would be; since you'll be coming along, you can tell him yourself."

Quickly he looked down to what was gathered, before he looked back up. "How much do you think you're going to have to bring? Because if possible I'd like to get this in one trip, so if there's anything I can carry..."

The sizable ka-chunk of the bag of coins on the counter set him at ease. He stuck it in a little lockbox behind the counter. "I've got a little cart outside we can use. Minus the stuff I can't figure out what it is, we should be able to get it all in one go if you help with this," he said, arranging the items into bags and baskets. "...cordyceps? Really?... Anyway, I should be ready in a few minutes. Just gotta lock up the back."

While the rest of the shop was rather sparsely furnished with basic furniture and the like, the door into the back of the shop was a sturdier one by far, heavier and shod with iron around the outside. There were three locks on the door, each with a different key. Godfrey nonchalantly fished the keys out of different pockets, locked them up tightly, and sighed. "Cliff, if you need any more of the salve, I'll leave it here on the counter. Don't use too much or you'll hallucinate, though," he added.

It wasn't often that he closed up shop during the day, but if the king and his dumb magicians wanted him, then it was wiser probably to not refuse. Plus, having gotten outside, he could finally see what the neighborhood kids had been doing to his shop front all morning-- red ribbons and flowers were strewn across his doorway in a way that only urchins could have done. He shook his head a bit, and sighed.

"Lead the way, Mister Sentinel." Laden with a basket, a bag, and a cartful of bottles, jars, and boxes of varying sizes and shapes, he fancied that they looked like what the old snake-oil salesmen of yore would look like as they travelled township to township. Likely, those salesmen would not have nearly half as many volatile substances and putrid ingredients with them, but hey. Looks are looks.

"Yes, of course." Quickly, Sampson turned to begin his walk, taking the lead considering that the alchemist, chemist, or whatever he happened to be was entirely insistent on keeping a hold of the supplies. Their journey to the castle was slowed a little more than it usually would have been thanks to the excessive activity considering the holiday, but in contrast passing through the gates into the inner circle involved nothing more than a slight wave from Sampson.

From there it was a clean shot to the castle, nothing in their way, and once they arrived there was a brief struggle to actually get the cart into the hallways, before they gave up and used a servant's entrance instead, which had considerably less stairs. It made getting around to their eventual destination a little bit longer, and Sampson almost ran to knock on the door when it came into sight.

The King was the one who answered, keeping it pulled to as much as he could as he left, so that a glance inside wouldn't slip by. "Sampson is this who you found?"

"Yes Cyril, this is... er... uh..."

The trip was kept relatively quiet-- Godfrey wasn't one for small talk when the matter at hand seemed at least somewhat urgent. Still, the trip was almost uncomfortably silent. Had he been given more time, he'd have been able to portion out the ingredients into smaller packages to make the trip easier, but with the amount of hurry that had been implied, his basket was full of large, wide-mouthed jars and bottles instead, sloshing with liquids and slimes and powders.

He'd never been inside the castle before-- Not that he'd never had an opportunity, but just that he'd never really been interested. Chemists needn't often attend to royalty, and assassins were less likely to be caught if they stayed away from royal grounds. Still, the place was interesting. They finally came up to a great door, and the Sentinel's knock was answered by--

The king? And this Sentinel addressed him by name rather than by a title? Something was seriously fishy here. Nevertheless, Godfrey stood up straighter and adjusted his collar-- just in case the new gentleman was, in fact, the real king.

"Godfrey Hildebrand, local alchemist and apothecary, and erstwhile infirmary attendant, at your service, your Highness," he said, with a bow and slight flourish. Had he known he'd be meeting the king himself, he'd have changed to better clothes than his plain white button-up shirt and brown work apron.

The thought flashed across his mind that if this was, in fact, a trick, and they were going to use these materials for some ill intent, he'd be part-and-parcel of that attempt. He eyed the bottle of oil of vitriol on top of the basket. If it came to it, he could break that bottle and hope that it would destroy at least the items in that basket.

"I wish we were meeting on better circumstances, Mr. Hildebrand." Cyril said this after having given a nod, his hand coming up to his chest in the typical Sentinel salute; it mattered not that he was King, as he would always commit to that action time and time again. His face was indeed grim, tired, clearly at odds with what was going on. "I don't know of any better way than to tell your how your wares will be used than to tell you the truth; the Queen of H'kela request them, so that she can assist us. Chieftain Yihira was murdered within our borders, and we have no idea who did it or why."

Slowly, he looked back to the door, before back to Godfrey once again. "Since you're working with medicine, you've probably seen plenty of wounds in your time, but... I don't think you'll have seen anything like this, ever. It's... awful, in a word. So I need you to be prepared before we come in, because the Queen is going to be needing those ingredients quickly. And not of word of this leaves the castle; the people don't know yet, and if word gets out then everything will go sideways, and we'll have less of a chance of figuring out who did it in the panic. Do you understand?"

A moment's hesitation passed before Godfrey nodded. "As you say, your highness," he affirmed. He was nothing if not a secret-keeper.

The thought of trickery left his head for the time, replaced with frantic historical and political searches for the significance and places in hierarchy of the names he'd been told. This was bad news, and no denying it.

"I will assist with whatever skill I have, your highness," he said, and hefted his bag and basket. "If it is as urgent as your highness says, then we should waste no time, if you please."

Some of the more... creative poisons he'd synthesized left particularly disgusting and horrific remains, but he steeled himself anyway for the scene he was about to witness.

The King nodded, and with that turned and opened the door. There was no real way to get the cart into the room, so having it outside would have to be close enough. However, there really wasn't a moment to think about that beyond the first, as the smell of what was within washed over with the opening of the door. There was, of course, the smell of the dried gore within; there was no real smell of rot yet, undoubtedly due to something the Queen of H'kela had done...

But there was the smell of what the Queen was preparing, and at that point it was worse than the gore. A table had been moved in, placed against one of the walls, and it was there Revali stood. Keeping to one side, the woman had carefully organized and placed various pouches and cases, all sorts of strange and unpleasant ingredients kept either loosely within or, in the cases of the more dangerous ones, inside various vials. What could only have been described as an apparatus had been set up as well, tubes and orbs of glass running from one to the other, with a cauldron as well.

When the door opened, the Queen simply directed to the side, at the much larger and emptier part of the table. "There."

Godfrey's vision washed over the collection of ingredients she'd put together. Fulminating gold, caustic volatile alkali, king's yellow, white arsenic...? Instinctively, he drew a folded-up canvas mask and a pair of copper-rimmed goggles from a pocket on his apron, and put them both on before beginning to unload the materials he'd brought along with him onto the table.

"My lady," he said, bowing to the Queen as his arms were full of bottles. "I think the list I got was... incomplete, but I've brought with me all the things that I could glean from it, as per your request. Godfrey Hildebrand, at your service," he said. "In the company of such an accomplished fulminist as yourself, my lady, my skills pale in comparison."

Except you bother around with magic, he briefly thought.

King Cyril was right-- the scene presented was definitely gruesome. Godfrey tried not to look at it, and the spices packed into the mask helped with the smell, but even so... What on earth happened? Whatever it was, he hoped that it would be cleaned up and taken care of sooner than later. His eyes kept drifting back to the collection of glassware and ironware that had been set up.

Do not judge the methods of others until you see their results, he reminded himself. Magus though she may be, her aim is likely different from your own in this sort of proceeding. Let her have her symbolism and trinketry-- it likely serves her purposes well. He attentively waited to be instructed.

The Queen didn't even glance to Godfrey as he introduced himself, taking no note of his appearance or how he bowed. However, she seemed to tune into the sound of bottles lightly coming together, and once more she directed to the side, this time pointing more insistently at the table. "Set them down, preferably in the order they were given in the list, and be careful not to have any sort of accident."

With the new ingredients, the work of the Queen seemed to double in intensity. Rapidly she introduced liquids to the tubes and orbs, and ingredients of the more solid kind she rapidly ground into various dusts and pastes with mortar and pestle. She worked like a person possessed, single-minded in her efforts, and despite the danger and toxicity of many of the ingredients she was working with she handled them like one might handle simple spices and mundane herbs.

Eventually, her work came to a sudden stop as her hand went out again and again to pick up various bottles. It was as if she was searching for something, but she never directly looked at them, at most using only the corner of her eye.

"There are no thumbs here."

Godfrey did not manage to stifle his audible snerk. "With apologies, my lady, it's not a real alchemical reagent and so I did not have any thumbs in my alchemy shop. I assumed it was a mistake in the list," he said, doing his best not to show his amusement. "Surely carbon, potassium, iron, and calcium in their proper proportions can approximate a thumb?"

He hazarded a glance back at Sampson, just to see what kind of face he should be making. The Queen sounded deadly serious when she said it, but he just could not bring himself to really take "thumbs" seriously.

He took a half-second to compose himself before bowing again to her. "I apologize for the lack, my lady."

Sampson, when Godfrey looked back, was utterly pale.

The Queen, meanwhile, didn't verbally respond to the man. There was no need to, as the slow look she gave him said it all. It was not one of hatred or contempt, because there was too much energy implied behind such descriptions. No, Revali's expression could have only been described as... utterly disinterested.

It was with that same expression that she brought both of her hands up and, with a sudden movement, drove one finger down into her own thumb, gouging into the nail bed without so much as flinching. In the same movement she scooped outwards, sending both nail and flesh into the viscous brew within.

"Dear Divines, Revali, stop-!" The King was much too late, as Revali switched hands to do the same to her other thumbnail. Still he approached even as it fell, but as his hand went forwards hers shot out, striking him in the chest to give a sudden shove backwards. She then held both hands over the mix, allowing herself to bleed freely down into it before beginning the process of thoroughly mixing, even as the last of the various substances in the tubes dribbled down into the cauldron.

"Knew I should have brought more ingredients myself..."

Well, excuuuuse me, princess, he thought, but grabbed the bottle of antiseptic from his apron for when she was finished. The least you could do is acknowledge that you couldn't do your dumb hoodoo without the science you're using, and a large portion of which I brought to you.

He'd seen other strange and ultimately pointless ritualistic things done by magicians before, but this one still managed to turn his stomach just a little. He turned his attention to the device and the chemicals inside, identifying them as best he could by sight alone and how they reacted with other things, to begin understanding the process she was using.

The antiseptic, like its carrier, was utterly ignored. Instead she snuffed out the flame beneath the cauldron with a simple wave, before lifting it up by the handles. Over she carried it to the corpse of Yihira, standing in front of it for a moment before looking over her shoulder to everyone in the room, but especially Kisarin, who had been quietly watching the entire time.

"What you all will see will undoubtedly be disturbing. If you're of a weak stomach, leave now."

Without any sort of grace or ceremony she dumped the contents of cauldron over the corpse. It should have flowed outwards, easily over Revali's own shoes and beyond, but instead the substance seemed to simply... cling to the body; not only cling, but actively seek. And then it began to seep in, slowly but surely fading into the flesh, a brown hue beginning to spread through, travelling as if the blood vessels just beneath the skin were still active.

Revali slowly bent over the body, and her hand reached down to light touch the forehead of the dead woman. She straightened, taking a step back and then holding her hand forwards, with it facing down. For a moment, nothing happened at all...

Suddenly both halves of the body jerked. Intestines from both halves lashed out, winding around each other to bring both halves of the body back together. The body stood in jerking, unpleasant and entirely wrong movements, like a puppet with half of its strings snapped. Even as the corpse took steps it briefly fell apart, the upper half crashing down to the ground before it surged back upwards once again.

The Queen of H'kela brought her palm up, directed towards the body. The body then floated, positioning itself as if on horseback at the proper height. Suddenly, the movements of the corpse became much more lifelike, with none of the jerks from before. In fact, if it weren't for the terrible wounds and now unnatural hue, it was almost as if Yihira were alive. The corpse looked around, and seemed to attempt to speak (though all they heard was guttural noises), before suddenly reeling back.

Both halves separated violently, flying across from each other in an instant, tumbling through the air and then crashing against the ground. Immediately, the moment was broken, and the now spent substance poured from the halves in a sickly brown sludge. The Queen lowered her hand, her head tilting slightly.

"She died quickly. Brutally quickly. But there were some details there..."

Semiparasitic substance that reads the remaining electrical impulses from the muscles and organs in reverse order, spending its energy in the process. I wonder if I could replicate it... That there was a corpse that had reconstructed itself from pieces, stood up, and moved freely despite its terrible state almost didn't faze him-- he was more interested in the process, in the effect that the noxious liquid had on the body.

Then the body split again, and little bits of gore flecked against him. Thank the divines for goggles and masks.

He took a moment to organize the information given by the scene he watched. "She was riding somewhere, relatively slowly by the way she held her body. She seemed to see the killing blow come in-- maybe the one who dealt it addressed her before it fell? The way the body separated, it seems like the horse she rode was also killed the same way. The wound isn’t exactly clean, but it must have been done by something both sharp and heavy. It also seems from the angle at which her body separates that the attacker was either much taller or somehow otherwise above the Chieftain, divines rest her soul." He paused again-- was there anything else he could glean?

"That's all I can see," he said, "unless there's something to be gotten from further autopsy. Given what we just saw, though..."

"Not bad." The Queen said dryly, even as she picked back up her cauldron to carry it back towards the table. "The attacker certainly wasn't taller than the Chieftain; if they were then they would be the size of her brother, and no one his size can leave no footfalls behind. If anything, I would guess the attacker was on the horse as well, which means that despite someone unfamiliar upon its neck and the impending death, the beast wasn't startled slightly. An unusual combination, to say the least."

Finally, she set about cleaning her hands, soon using a rag to dry them after having poured a fair amount of water of them, sending the excess into the cauldron in the process. She started walking back towards the King, who was inspecting the state of his cape; he had brought it around to protect himself when the bodies came apart, after all.

"So, King, you're not looking for any bandit. You're looking for someone highly skilled, and highly unusual; even more so than those of your growing Sentinels. The likelihood of you finding them, with that in mind, is almost nonexistent. Maybe if you sent someone like the Direwolf you would have a result eventually, but it won't be particularly quick."

Slowly, the King let out a hiss of breath, letting it slip out through his teeth. "Wonderful..."

---

The Capitol - An Invitation

His paranoia had not been unfounded, but learning that in hindsight did not do anything to help the fact that Yihira was dead, the damage was done, and more was to come. Yet knowing all of this only made Joachim's paranoia grow to further heights, creeping through his muscles in a constant tension, and in the rise of his hair along his skin. He couldn't help as if there were some sort specter lurking about, watching and waiting...

And so, Joachim acted. He was one of the first aware that something had awful had acted, and had disappeared well before the King could consider what orders to give to those who were on a level above the rest of the Sentinels. With a speed that only he could exhibit he went to the scene of the slaughter himself, finding it with only a few details from Alasa and having his senses do the rest of the work. For him, it wasn't that hard to find; despite the removal of the bodies, blood and bits of gore could not have been brought with, and it had seemed into the ground and trees. The very air itself no longer seemed healthy in the vicinity.

Alasa was an excellent tracker, and the Wanderer knew that much, but still he wanted to see it for himself, to confirm there was actually no trace left behind. It would have been one situation if it had been that Alasa's specific skills had caused him to miss something he wasn't aware to look for, and another entirely if there were truly no signs left... The more worrisome was the latter situation, and after spending an hour searching Joachim finally came to terms with the fact that, indeed, nothing had been left behind.

Bandits could not have been the cause behind this, so he wasted no time searching for them. Instead, he immediately returned back to the Capitol, to remain within minutes, and sometimes even second, to the King. With one leader targeted, everyone believed that another could quickly follow, and the paranoia that had settled in made him feel that the next appearance would be in the Capitol itself, and he wanted to stop it there.

He kept to the streets, listening and watching, searching the slightest sign for dissent. This may as well have been an exercise in futility, because besides some grumblings regarding the H'kelans, there was nothing like what he was looking out for. So he returned to the castle, and simply waited. Rather than keeping to the inside of the castle, her remained outside, on the walls or towers in order to watch the comings and goings to and from the castle. While it was large and he couldn't see it all at once, he kept as vigilant as he possibly could, and knew others were doing the same. He hoped that, together, a tight enough net would be created that no one would be able to slip through.

He was, of course, wrong.

When he had moved, settling in his new position where he rested against one of the southern spires, his feet fitting barely onto the base, he heard a voice. It came from behind and nearby, perhaps from the other side of the spire. Though the voice was young and spoken without even a slight hint of malice, the fact that it was there at all and what was said made Joachim's eyes widened as his hand fell towards his blade. He began to turn, even as the sentence was said:

"Shisor Yaguar would love to see you once again soon, in Kyora."

He flung himself around the spire, to the other side in a fluid movement with blade in hand, and yet there was no one there. His eyes darted around, swinging his head back and forth as he scanned the area around him, and yet there was no fleeing figure, or anyone attempting to hide. If it weren't for the fact that he was absolutely heard the voice, it was like there had been nothing in the first place.

The name that had been left behind brought him the greatest feeling of dread that he had felt in many, many years.

---

The Capitol - The Enemy Revealed

With nothing else to be learned from the body, Cyril turned to Kisarin to ask what should be done, and the Chieftain said pyres would do. There was no point in trying to take the bodies to the north, not after how many days had gone by; it would have to do for him to see the passage of his sister and her tribespeople to the next world, and for him to return to the north with news of it. The King left the details to the Chieftain, to make sure that no tradition would be left forgotten.

When it came to Godfrey Hildebrand, the King once again thanked him for his assistance, and also for his secrecy. However, before disappearing him, Cyril thought for a few moments before saying, "You know, I honestly think your skills are wasted running a simple shop and clinic. If you don't mind, I'd like to hire you for direct services. With assassins running about, you can never be too careful, yes?"

...assassins running about...

"Ahaha, yes, your majesty," he said, with a well-masked nervous chuckle. To be in service to royalty directly might have its perks, but it may also come with the kind of leash that he was not prepared to wear. He considered for a moment.

"With your leave, your highness, I think too many people rely on me in the locality of my shop to simple close it up and leave it. Would it be acceptable to continue my business and be of service to you on-call, your highness?" he asked. No way could he continue his more unsavory alchemistry under the roof of the Crown-- he'd be tried for treason.

The King gave a nod, following it up with, "You may, but for the time being, until this is resolved, I want you to stay close with the Sentinels. Just in case something happens, to me or anyone else."

However, even as they turned to leave, the door opened once again and in stepped Joachim. Usually, the Wanderer seemed nervous, slightly on edge, and uncomfortable so everyone had grown to expect it from him; however, the King could immediately tell something was wrong, terribly wrong. Joachim was pale, and his breathing was accelerated almost as if he had been fighting for his life just moments before.

"Joachim, what is it-?"

"He knows who killed Chieftain Yihira. The one who caused it."

After the initial uproar, especially from Kisarin, the news was spread throughout the castle. Quickly the Sentinels and their allies were summoned, directed to the outer ring of the castle; they were summoned to the strategy room, a room that, since the King had come to power, been entirely dedicated to Sentinel planning and deployment; with a great table that held a map that showed the East in detail upon it, with various markers on the board for cities, towns, groups of soldier, and even single persons, it had seen plenty of use in the previous days, but never something so dire.

With everyone in at relative comfort, the focus who was entirely upon Joachim, who was sitting away from the table and near one of the walls. He was looking down, holding his blade across his lap as he did so. They had been waiting for three minutes already, the King having directed their attention to him, and finally he spoke.

"The one who is responsible for the death of Yihira should not be alive. He is so, so certain that he saw the death of the one many, many years ago. He was there for the confrontation, after all, and for the casting of the body into the Void, but... They did not have the time and resources to follow the body, to find out where it landed. There must have been some life left in him."

Joachim's finger began to rapidly tap at the sheathed blade, his nerves showing through it. "He is a man of ruthless ambition and great power, the kind who will do anything to reach his goals. That's why we accepted him, and why he was drawn to us in the first place; we had power, and we were fighting against those who stood in his way. For a while it worked, and then... We all knew the day would probably come where we turned on each other, but still, he, as in this person, wasn't ready."

He was frowning, and for a few moments he remained quiet. Sighing, he finally looked to the group. "He apologizes. He should not try to rationalize why he knows this murderer, there is no point. What matters is that he knows that Shisor Yaguar, the Devil's Fire, is the one behind the attack, that he is in fact live, and that he is waiting for him, this one, in Kyora."

Once more, the reaction was sudden and loud, but it was the King's raised voice, demanding quiet in a single word that brought everything back to an even level. It was his question that was answered first:

"How do you know this?"

"He was approached by an agent, possibly the one who killed Yihira, and given a message. He has no way of verifying it, but... He knows that it is Yaguar. He can feel it."

"So what do you recommend that we do?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Kisarin asked, and his fist came down on the table, before he pointed directly at Kyora on the map. "We go there and we kill the bastard."

Joachim shook his head. "It will not be that simple. During the time of the God King War, Yaguar was easily one of the strongest members of the Gifted. If he is reappearing now, then that means he feels that he's finally healed from what wounds he was given at his defeat, and is possibly even stronger than before. He will have gathered men and women to us, and he is probably holding Kyora hostage as well; if we march there with an army, the burning city will undoubtedly be our battleground."

"So we just sit here then, on our asses?" Christopher called from his corner, and once more the Wanderer shook his head.

"No, we will not. Yaguar wishes to see this one; he will get his wish. He, as in this one, will depart immediately, and head to Kyora."

"That's suicide!" Ayano exclaimed, bursting up from her seat even as Diane struggled to get her to sit back down.

"No, he is not going to die. He is going there to draw Yaguar out. You," Joachim directed this more directly to the Sentinels, "Will prepare yourselves, and then follow. He hopes to have found a foothold in Kyora by your arrival, and then from there... Well, Yaguar will probably have something in mind."

"You make it sound like a trap." From where he stood, looming over the table, the Paladin said this with a certain measure of peace in his voice.

"No, not a trap, but Yaguar... has a flair for the theatric, and he doubts that has been lost to time." Joachim murmured, shaking his head. "He has no doubts that he is prepared for some sort of show."

"Travelling separated seems... foolish, Joachim." The King finally spoke once again, slowly crossing his arms.

"Perhaps." Joachim met his eyes, and for once looked with a purely serious, unflinching gaze. "But it is not for his benefit, but yours. He wants you all to think carefully before you decide whether or not you will follow him. It has been two months since a war, and he wants those who have enjoyed the peace to continue to enjoy it. He does not know what Yaguar has planned, but... Undoubtedly it will be hard."

"... Fine." Cyril said, giving a slight nod. "When will you leave?

"Immediately."

"We'll follow tomorrow."

"He appreciates the thought, but..." Joachim stood then, putting his weapon back at his side as he stepped towards the door. "He really wants you all to think beforehand."

[Atrophy]

Christopher, Joy, & the Direwolf

With the full revelation made by Joachim and the decision of how the departures would work, there was nothing left except for everyone to get ready in their own ways. They departed at their own pace, went their own directions, and took their own actions; some went to immediately get ready, while others elected to take a little extra time to think and compose themselves, or to simply embrace what little free time they had left for the time being.

Unlike everyone else, however, the departure of Joachim Raizen was immediate. He said his farewells to the King and those who happened to be nearby, before he turned and simply walked from the castle. He did not take the time to prepare any sort of supplies, or anything like that; clearly, he was planning on simply procuring them along the way, more than intent to get a major headstart. Getting to Kyora would take any normal person or group two days, and he was aiming for even less time.

Meanwhile despite all previous evidence to the contrary, Christopher did not take this time to slack off. Instead, he seemed to be dedicated to getting himself ready as quickly as he possibly could. Perhaps he was actually thinking ahead for once, and considering he only had one arm now he had realized it would take him longer than anyone else, but that still didn't explain why he decided to get ready starting in the early afternoon; after all, he himself thought that even if he had no arms, he wouldn't need twelve hours to get ready.

Maybe it had something to do with a gut feeling he had, to get ready as soon as possible just in case something happened, but even then the feeling probably wasn't that defined. However, he still followed it, and so mere minutes after Joachim had finished speaking to them all he was in his room within the castle. It was one of the plainer ones, with very little decoration within; he had yet to taken the time to personalize it beyond his clothes in the drawers (or on the floor in some cases).

With his bag on the bed, back and forth he went. He clumsily folded each garment to the best of his ability, trying to minimize the space each one took before he went to the next. Already the blade was at his side, but his gauntlet, for once, had been taken off; it was lying next to the bag, simply waiting there as he went back and forth, back and forth. With the door open, his grumbles and curses could be heard floating down the hallway every so often, along with some scuffling as he had to go digging for something.

"Need a hand?"

Joy stood with her shoulder resting against the doorway and her arms folded over her chest. If her words had been meant as a cruel joke at Christopher's expense then her face surely did not show it as she blew away a piece of hair that had swung in front of her eyes. A redness in her cheeks made her appear as if she had just been sprinting, and the way she had seemingly managed to already acquire all of her travelling gear within such a short window of time meant that the woman had either gone for a quick race home or had been hiding bug-out bags throughout the castle.

She did not move from the doorway; she wouldn't until Christopher invited her in, if he did. She wouldn't call them particularly close, but she felt as if he had been dodging her for the past few weeks—not that it wasn't for completely justifiable reasons. Joy had been pressuring him to study and train with her as opposed to that blasted paladin after watching his rather self-destructive fight with the Advisor, and she refused to go easy on him even if he was still injured. Hell, maybe it was because that he was injured that she was tough on him; injuries served as a good excuse to feel sorry for yourself and let your body slide into a dangerous state of atrophy, and she wasn't about to let that happen to someone who had been instrumental in ending their war.

However, she hadn't stopped to talk to the boy about him skipping out on lessons; considering the recent news, a little bit of truancy was unimportant. She had stopped to close his door so that his damn cursing wouldn't echo throughout the entire fucking castles, she had only said something once she saw him struggling with what should've been such a simple task. Now, her gray eyes darted from Christopher to his bag to his clothes strewn about the place. Her eyebrow raised ever so slightly as the corner of her lip twitched upwards, her head tilting downward in an attempt to hide her amusement.

"Is all of that really necessary? I doubt the Gifted's going to say anything if he sees you wear the same pair of pants two days in a row," she said, looking back up at him with an actual smile.

Like always, when Christopher took to a task he threw himself into it entirely, and even something as simple as packing was no exception. Of course, that meant he didn't hear Vesta coming at all, so when the woman spoke the reaction was... excessive, like anything when it came to the young man. He swore loudly as he jumped, and with the movement the clothes he had cradled into his arm went flying to the side. He turned, looking towards her, and when he realized who it was he swore once again, this time much more purposefully. Even with her between him and the hallway, it seemed like he was tensing to flee.

"Uhhhh, hey Vesta. So I know I've been skipping out lately on the lessons and all, but, uh... We have a mission now so remediation will have to wait...?"

He trailed off the further he got in, when he realized that she wasn't here to punish him for all that he had worked so diligently on avoiding. It made his shoulders relax a little, though he sneered ever slightly at her last comment, glancing down to the bag and clothes all around before he looked up to her, rolling his eyes slowly and making a show of it in the process.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm looking ahead. Mom knows I'm gonna get cut somehow in the coming days, and though my skin might repair my clothes don't. So... Extras to go around." It sounded more and more stupid the longer he talked, a trait that most of his ideas shared. He sighed, before dropping the bag down onto the bed, shrugging and bringing his hand up to run through his hair, pushing everything up briefly before then patting it back down.

"But I'm probably good as is, now...?"

Joy raised an eyebrow when Christopher mentioned his mother; for a second there she had almost forgotten that she was in the same room as the son of a Divine, and the one that was seen as Barcea's Patron no less. Perhaps some would act differently to the lad if they knew that but Joy, well, she had met his mother; if anything, she would rather forget that encounter outright—more than anything, it had been rather embarrassing. She shifted uncomfortably and chased the thought away, her eyes lingering on the dropped bag. She wanted to say something about how he wouldn't have to worry about getting hit if he had attended her lessons, but she held her tongue.

"So I should just leave you alone, then?" she asked, closing her eyes for a moment. She didn't move from the doorway; she could feel words forming in her mouth, and she wasn't certain that she had the restraint to hold them back. Her jaw moved from side to side as if she was trying to swallow them, and then she reopened her eyes slowly. They were gone; she'd give herself a pat on the back later. She pushed herself off of the door frame and began to straighten herself out. "Okay, fine. I hate folding clothes anyway."

"Sounds good to me." He crouched down then, to pick up the bag-

"You don't honestly believe you're coming along, do you?" This was another voice, but it was another one to make him immediately tense. However, unlike with Vesta, Christopher didn't feel like this situation would have quite as easy of a solution. The Direwolf, after all, was leaning against the wall across of the hallway, waiting behind Vesta, and had approached completely silently. There was, of course, what he had said as well.

"The hell are you going on about?" Christopher couldn't keep the snarl out of his voice, so it was clear he already had some idea of what Alsius was talking about. The red haired man's eyebrow raised ever sightly.

"I didn't stutter, did I boy? You're not coming along. You're just a hassle now."

"Fuck off."

Joy found herself caught between the two, hot air hitting her from both sides. Normally she would just push right by the Direwolf—unlike most, she wasn't intimidated by the man—and ignore the whole situation, assuming the man just didn't want Christopher along because he was a bit of a curmudgeon. Hell, she was a bit of a curmudgeon; she'd even agree that having Christopher (and pretty much anyone else) around was a hassle, although with the boy it was largely just because it meant the Paladin would be following them around so that he could keep babysitting the kid. However, the word now stuck out to her like a sore thumb. Joy folded her arms over her chest and stood so that she blocked the door, challenging the Direwolf with a withering stare.

"And why is that, Alsius?" she said, her voice tight.

"It worries me having a liability involved."

"What?!" Christopher snapped.

"The essence of combat is to strike at the vulnerabilities, the weaknesses of one's opponent. If you go to Kyora, many like the Phantasm will feel the need to protect you considering your new condition. You will give Yaguar a place to strike. Many here will give him a place to strike. Why do you think the Phantasm left alone?"

Alsius' hand came up, pointing at Christopher. "To the Phantasm, your current existence is nothing but an impediment." He then pointed to Vesta. "To her, your current existence is nothing but an impediment, whether she admits it or not." His hand then lowered. "To me, your current existence is nothing but an impediment. To the King, your current existence is nothing but an impediment."

Joy could almost feel her knee flare up in pain like it used to do. She knew what the Direwolf was trying to say, but she wanted to hear him say it. She stepped forward, her teeth set and her hand squeezed into a fist, and glowered at him. She rose her hand up as if she were ready to hit him even if he was nearly a foot taller than her, only for her fist to change into a single pointing finger that prodded him in his chest.

"And what, tell me," she said, her voice hissing as she prodded him again, "do you mean by his new condition?"

The Direwolf simply gave another slow blink, having not flinched in the slightest when the first rose at first, and he certainly didn't flinch when she poked him twice. "You obviously know what I'm talking about. He's fresh from missing an arm, and still doesn't know how to compensate for it. If he's that desperate to kill himself, let him do it himself here and now, rather than taking others out with him as they try to protect him. Things will be less messy that way."

"He's right..." Christopher said this quietly... And yet something about his tone made it clear he wasn't responding to what Alsius had just said.

"I see," said Joy, her voice strained. "I suppose I learned how to compensate for it when I was all busted up, then? Or would you have rather I fallen on my sword if I hadn't have been patched up."

"Unlike him, you had experience." Still the Direwolf spoke calmly, clearly having no issue defining the difference between the two of them. "You could compensate."

"I probably am nothing but a liability right now, aren't I?" Christopher spoke once again. "I am hurt, and I'm young too. I doubt he's the only one who thinks that, it only makes sense." His voice remained quiet and his gaze was downcast... And then, suddenly, he looked up, eyes practically blazing. "Guess I'll just have to fucking prove them WRONG!" As he stepped forwards, he pushed past Vesta suddenly even as Alsius moved to get in his way.

"MOVE, ARGENTUM! IF YOU DON'T, I'LL MAKE YOU MOVE!"

"No, you will not."

Before Vesta could try and stop him, Christopher took a swing with a yell-

But Alsius simply turned to the side, avoiding it. One hand snapped up, grabbing Christopher by the wrist. In that moment, Christopher's body twitched, and perhaps he would have thrown another punch if he could have. Instead, Alsius' other hand curled into a fist, and then was sent straight into the stump of Christopher's other arm. The boy's eyes widening in shock and pain, only able to gasp as blood suddenly flowed with a sickening crack. However, Alsius wasn't done with that.. With ease he lifted Christopher up, swinging him over himself and sending Christopher crashing onto his back, hard-

And there, Alsius curb-stomped the stump as Christopher screamed, blood flying into the air. The Direwolf was completely indifferent.

"Stop, you id—" was all Joy could get out before the hall filled with Christopher's screams as the Direwolf easily turned his attack against him. She knew that the boy had made a mistake letting the Direwolf provoke him, but any chance of her siding with Alsius on this one burned away in a kiln of quiet fury as she watched her compatriot follow up with an unnecessarily cruel attack. She didn't lose her temper often, but he had crossed the line. The man's back was turned to her, but surely he would recognize the sound of steel leaving a sheath; he was lucky that she was above backstabbing, even if the person was a barbaric dog.

"Alsius, I think it would behoove you to leave the boy alone now," she said, her sword pointed towards the ground but ready to snap to action in a single second if the Direwolf was stupid enough to try and beat her speed, "because if you touch one of my students ever again, I will fucking kill you."

The Direwolf slowly looked over his shoulder to Vesta, gaze still cold and calm. He slowly straightened, and once again his eyebrow raised slightly. His hand was already on his blade, more than ready to be drawn. "You see, I would if they didn't strike first. As I have told you, the essence of combat is to strike at the vulnerabilities of one's opponent. There is no fair or unfair. There is no student and master. The Phantasm isn't going to some sort of sparring match or knightly duel in Kyora. He goes to a death match." Slowly, he looked back to Christopher, even as the boy struggled to get on his feet. "This is not for you. Stay here in Kyora."

Tensed, Christopher managed to take his feet, but it was with a fair stumble as well. "No weakness here, asshole. Weakness means I'd be done with you hitting me there, right? Might hurt, but I'M NOT FUCKING DOWN YET."

In that moment Christopher moved again, throwing one brutal punch that Alsius blocked with both arms. "SO GET OUT OF MY WAY, ARGENTUM. I'VE GOT A POINT TO PROVE NOW."

Alsius simply rolled his eyes, but at the same time he moved, slipping around Christopher to put the young one between Vesta and himself. "So intent sealing your fate.... I won't let you. And I won't let you complain that my blade was the reason why you lost." The weapon was then dropped, his arms coming up once again. "I'll beat you with your own choice to make it sink in; with fists."

Joy glowered at Christopher; the boy should really learn that sometimes it was smarter to just stay down. He was doing a marvelous job of proving the Direwolf's point, although even if she could see that she still refused to agree with it. Honestly, at this point she could no longer tell if the Direwolf was actually trying to convince Christopher that he should stay behind or rile him up to the point that he forge on ahead, fueled by a fire in his stomach. Yet at this point, she didn't really even care. They were acting like idiots, both of them, but she'd still try and stop them from destroying each other. Well, Alsius would destroy Christopher, and she would have to put down the Direwolf in return. She wouldn't actual kill him, not unless he killed Christopher, but there would be something poetic about crippling him.

"Christopher," she said, shoving past the boy, "if you try to hit Alsius again I swear I will cut your other damn arm off. I know you've been hit in the head so many times that your tiny brain can't even fathom the concept of it, but someone should feel ashamed when they fuck up that bad twice."

"And Alsius," she continued, leveling her weapon at his chest, "you're a knight of Barcea. Perhaps you should act like it for once, instead of just behaving like some schoolyard bully. Get lost."

She stood turned between the two, her eyes shifting between each of them looking for the slightest sign of them moving to make an attack. Although it was her sword that was raised, it would be her hard scabbard that would deliver the blow if one of them tried to act. It would be like a teacher using a ruler to smack a misbehaving student, only she would be looking to shatter the small bones in a wrist of an idiotic adult instead.

For a moment, the tension remained. Even with Vesta between the two of them, they continued to stare each other down, ready to strike at a moment's notice. The threat of the blade and scabbard seemed to be doing little to deter them... And then, quite suddenly, Alsius straightened, giving a slight humph. He turned, picking up his blade and placing it back at his side even as he walked away, speaking without looking back over his shoulder:

"Act as high and mighty as you want, Debove. You're about as effective as a teacher as you were a guard, judging from how that idiot is behaving. And with you continuing to get in the way, I can only do so much to keep the idiot from killing himself, along with whoever he can drag down with him."

With that, the Direwolf was gone, leaving just Vesta and Christopher behind. For a moment, the young man was silent before he turned, fist lashing out to punch the wall. "Divinesdammit..."

Joy let out a frustrated sigh as she rolled her neck and put away her blade. Alsius's words stung, but she was glad neither of them had tried to push past her—not that a part of her didn't want to have the satisfaction of cracking her scabbard over either one of them at this point, although if she had her choice she'd still probably prefer for it to have been Alsius. Christopher was acting like a child, but the Direwolf had been the one provoking him knowing full well how the kid would've reacted. She wiped something wet off of her threat, briefly surprised to see a smear of red on her hand: Christopher's blood. Frowning, her eyes traced the dent in the wall around his fist, up his arm, and around his back before settling on the heavily bleeding stomp; she could hear her teeth gnashing together in quiet anger.

"Diane can patch that up," she said, despite knowing full well that Christopher's gift would eventually cause his wounds to heal up anyway. She put her hand on his good shoulder, "Come on, I'll take you to her."

There was just a second of silence, and then Christopher shrugged away, giving a shake of his head as he did so. "No, fuck that." Turning on his heel he stepped back into his room, picking up the bag that had been tossed aside and placing it on the bed. After giving it one last check, he finally set it down before he picked up the gauntlet where it was still resting, then holding it out to her.

"Help me get this thing on."

She took the gauntlet in hand, her mouth drawn thin, and stepped behind him to more easily adjust the straps. There was no tenderness in her touch, but she kept the straps loose enough to prevent them from cutting the circulation off to his hand while making sure they were tight enough to keep the gauntlet from sliding off. Finished, she walked back in front of Christopher and looked him directly in the eyes, unblinking.

"Alsius is wrong, but so are you. You are weak," she said, raising her hand to stop him from not letting her finish. "It's not because you're a cripple. I won't lie and say that there's a hidden strength in it, but enough people will underestimate you that it can be advantageous. Your weakness is that you're a hothead, you're easily provoked, and you have no patience. Anybody could use that against you." She sighed, running her hand through her hair, "But if you can ask for help with getting dressed, maybe you'll be smart enough to take what I have to say to heart."

"I know." He grumbled, shifting his arm some after the woman was finished putting the gauntlet on. He gave a slight flex of his fingers, and with it sparks jumped over the digits, before he clenched his fist. "Thanks for the help. I'll see you in Kyora." He stated this simply before he grabbed his bag, turning to leave his own room.

Joy stepped to the side to let him pass and then turned to watch him go, her brow knitted tight. It was like she had said, the boy had no patience; at this rate, he would probably get himself killed—which would then make Alsius right, and that was something Joy could not abide by. With a huff she hurried after Christopher, positioning herself directly beside his bloodied side; he was weak, he was a impediment, but, damn it, he was her student and she would protect him. The others in her class would appreciate the break, anyway.

"Divines knows what your mother would do if I let you venture off without a chaperone," said Joy, the corners of her lips hinting at an almost playful smile as she fell in stride with him. "And trust me, I'm a better travelling companion than Damon fucking Dubois, although that's not saying much..."

Christopher simply snorted slightly, but he also gave a nod as he shouldered his pack a little more securely. "If you're so insistent, I won't try to stop you. Thanks."

[PetiteAmbivert]

Alice and Dalious

It wasn't long before Dalious' parrot flew away. In fact it was the very first moment he walked outside, spitting out a final "Fuck off!" before fading off over the buildings of the capitol and toward the mountains.

"Well that was very anti-climactic," Dalious said of the matter, as he only pondered for a few moments of what could have been. It was a good distraction from his thoughts of wanting to leave his companions and head back to the seas. Those thoughts faded as well as the news of the bodies quietly spread amongst them. Finally some purpose, he thought of it all. It was horrible to think that way when people had been killed, but nonetheless, he was just glad to have some work.

Still walking with a slight limp in his left leg, and using his sheathed katana as a walking stick, Dalious made his way down to the Capitol's underground. He entered a hole in the wall place called the Pit, a lowly lit tavern where a few of the soldiers went to clear their minds. Two men were fist fighting in a small circle with others cheering them on, and at the bar sat a lone man that was hooded and turned away. Dalious hobbled over to the man and took a seat next to him, wondering how in the hell Vesta managed all those years with her injury.

"What's the word on the streets?" Dalious asked, as the bartender set down his usual drink of whiskey. The pirate downed the shot and waved over another before the other man answered.

"Nothing like you're talking about," he replied. "We don't have that many eyes yet, but as far as we can tell, Barcea is quiet."

"Figured as much," Dalious said. "Keep me posted if that changes."

The two men clinked their next shot glasses together.

"For honor and country!" the man said.

"For country and coin," Dalious said after.

After they downed the shots, one of the two men fighting took a hard left hook and slumped to the ground. The audience around them erupted in both cheer and applause, as everyone seemed to be feeling pretty good. Another fight quickly broke out, as more and more of the people started building up their courage and testosterone. It was somewhat normal, at least when coin was involved. However, things were known to escalate quickly in the Pit.

His informant left on to other business, but Dalious decided to stay awhile. The place was a slum, he knew, but it reminded him of sailing out in the ocean. The company around him was horrible, but it was the memories it all brought back. He polished off a few more drinks, then decided to head back to see if Vesta or Calypso found out anything.

Shortly after the orders had been given to find out information within the city's grounds, Alice had quickly set to work. This should have been easy work for someone like her but with the poor amount of response she was getting she was growing more and more frustrated.

At one point she had met up with Stark to reconfirm that neither had found information and to meet up later while Alice indulged herself for once and found herself blending into the less than favorable side of the city-entering into The Pit with her hood pulled up enough to hide most of her face. She only took a moment to glance around the place before spotting a familiar looking man across the way with a few empty drinks before him.

Alice danced her way around the current fight to take the seat next to the pirate-pulling her hood back as she leaned on the counter to face towards him. "Any luck?" Of course he would know she would be speaking of their mission.

Dalious slightly jumped a bit in his seat when Alice appeared almost out of nowhere. Normally, he had prided himself for his expert hearing and keen observation. This was not such a moment.

"Dammit!" He gasped, nearly toppling his drink over. "You mustn't sneak up on me like that Alice, I thought we talked about this? You scared the shit out of me." His thoughts weren't of the road ahead when he had been startled, but rather of the lives that had been lost in the past. His thoughts of leaving the group quickly disappeared when another challenge seemed to present itself. He knew, though would probably never admit, that he would serve the king for as long as he would have him. Cyril did save his life, that seals an oath that lasts forever.

Alice gave a quiet chuckle as she seemed to have scared Dalious. "It's not my fault you aren't aware of a beautiful woman." She smoothly teased as the two shots were brought to them. She gave a simple nod to the bartender with a smirk and a wink before returning her attention back to the pirate across from her. She simply kept quiet as she let her fingers dance on the rim of the shot glass-contemplating if she wanted to nurse the drink or fully take it in a single go.

"Beautiful things are rare in this place, and no luck, clearly," he said as he raised two fingers at the bartender, who quickly then brought the pair two drinks. Whiskey, always being the case for the pirate. "No matter how many I drink, I can't seem to get drunk anymore. It's quite upsetting really." He had packed up some dragongrass in the while and took a few hits from his pipe. "I know what you meant, still the same answer. The streets are quiet. I fear this may be above my pay grade. Especially, since I lack a pay grade to begin with. What about you? ...and how much do you get paid?"

The two were quite suddenly interrupted as one of the other bar patrons walked up just behind them. The short man didn't have the same grace or technique of the bounty hunter, he was simply drunk and dumb. Dalious was aware on this account, though he remained facing away from him toward the bar.

"Hey lady, us guys over there..." the ugly man started, spitting slightly on the pirate's shoulder, though looking toward Alice. He was licking his lips and nodding his head for approval. "We was thinking, why is she with, that cripple? Wouldn'tchu rather, come over so we can, you know, start this gangbang?"

Before Alice could respond, Dalious reached his arm quickly back, grabbed the man by the fat of his neck, and smashed his face into the bar. Alice's thought process was stilled as her hand grasped and partially un-holstered a pistol strapped to her thigh as the short drunkard decided to come up behind Dalious and dare to speak to her in such a manner. In the same instance that Dalious brought back his arm and slammed the man's face into the bar, Alice pointed her pistol at the man's face before he fell to the ground. She all much snickered as all attention was on them- holstering her weapon for safe keeping. Everyone involved at the fighting ring stopped and turned to the two of them. It was a number, far beyond the pirate's counting abilities at this point. The biggest and baldest of them took a few steps forward and said, "That's my brother!" The annoying woman with few teeth beside him began yelling loudly in the background, her words pointless to try and comprehend.

"Unfortunate, really," Dalious replied, taking his shot and turning toward the men. "Well, we are all fighting on the same side, mates. We are all brothers and sisters. Devine's bless us, one and all. All for one, or something like that. Who's with me?" He turned to Alice and whispered. "No killing, right?" then gave her a wink.

When Dalious turned to speak to her about no killing she grinned wide, "No promises!" She exclaimed as she took that shot of whiskey before taking the shot glass and slamming it into the left side of one of the approaching woman who was swearing up a storm at her. The woman faltered for a moment before Alice cocked her right arm back again and cold clocked the woman in the face-watching her go down like a sack of potatoes.

Dalious attached his sheathed blade around his back, via a leather strap that held it from across his chest. "You're dead!" was the bald man's only reply, though he waited for the others around him to jump in first.

"Alice," Dalious said. "I forgot to ask, how was your day?" He fully expected her to tell him what she did today, even as he caught a punch from an attacker. He twisted the man's arm around to his back, then broke it, while simultaneously kicking in the man's knee to bring him down. He swatted him away, then moved on to the next.

Alice locked eyes with another patron as he brought both of his fists up and tried to size her up. "Oh , it was quite lovely actually. I found a lovely little cafe on the far East side of the city-lots of gossip to be had over there. I also did a bit of baking earlier as well." Alice coolly stated as the man threw the first few punches; slowly and clearly predictable. She got into the man's personal space before her left grabbed his arm, her right foot came down hard on his left foot and her right arm cocked back and landed three times on his throat before she threw him backwards onto the ground.

"What about yourself? Been enjoying the holidays, Dali?" Alice gave a grunting noise as arms wrapped around her from behind. Her toes barely touching the ground as the person holding her tried to keep her still. She gripped the man's arms tight before pushing off the ground with all her might and jerking her body forward, planting her feet on the ground, and flipping the man up and over her body and onto one of the tables with a loud bang. Now she was grinning wide as she squared up with a third who was calling her less than kind names.

A steady roundhouse to the jaw sent him to the ground totally knocked out.

"I'm not actually partial to the holidays, but..." he started, only pausing to hold in his breath while he lifted another assailant up, only to slam him back down again. "...I did find the food to be quite good."

The large, shirtless, bald one sprang forth, tackling Dalious to the ground while also reminding him of his hip and leg injuries. It was easy enough to avoid his jaw being touched, but his leg was another matter. Though even as it throbbed in pain, he still managed to twist and turn from muscle memory, obtaining his attackers head and arm in the process. He squeezed on an arm triangle, pulling the hold tighter and tighter as the man slowly went to dream land.

"On a scale of one to ten how pissed do you think the boss might be at us for this?"

"Oh, best we not trouble our boss with the little things," Dalious replied, shoving the unconscious man aside and using his covered sword to help himself back to his feet. The next man was hesitant on moving in on the pirate, but eventually he decided to give it a go as well. Dalious gave off a deep breath, then swung his sheathed weapon, cracking the man at the temple and dropping him out of the fight before he could do much of anything. "Though if I had to guess, probably a solid nine."

When all was said and done, Dalious began limping over to Alice with his sheath-cane. There were numerous unconscious bodies lying in the wake, some slowly coming to, while others were still completely out.

"Well then," he said, leaning on the cane while also propping a leg on one of the attacker's backs. "We should probably never talk of this again. I'm quite certain they won't. Barkeep, bills on that one." He pointed to the half-aware, though still utterly messed up one, of which started it all to begin with, his face was still oozing with his own blood.

Alice had taken care of those who dared to attempt a fight with her- turning her focus to Dalious as he limped over. Her arm was raised and ready to catch him should be fall or need her assistance but before she could make a joke several others ran into the bar and gathered in the door.

With a hard drown Alice found herself between Dalious and the pissed off group ahead of them. "Oi, was you the ones picking' fights?" One of the gruffer ones asked as he attempted to look intimidating by cracking his knuckles.

"No." Alice harshly said as she kicked one of the bodies out of her way and unholstered both of her pistols on her chest holsters and pointed them at the group with a level hand. They would see her eyes glowing almost ominously as she continued speaking, "we were just leaving." She cool stated as she moved forward.

A few huffed out of the way but one such man actually moved to swing at her only for her to drop the gun and fire a single shot just outside of his thigh- grazing the flesh and just a bit of the muscle underneath. The man went down quickly wailing. "Next ones in your buddy's head."

The group was silent as they parted ways and let them through. Dalious nodded in approval as the group left way. "Yeah, I'm with her!" he pointed out, his ego in full tact.

Alice bolstered her weapons again before dipping under Dalious and using herself as his lean on. "Come on sea captain. Let's get you back to the castle to rest."

"No rest for the wicked, love," he replied. They made their way out of the Pit and into the dank streets of the underground once again, all eyes finally parting from the now more respected duo. "I've done enough of that lately." Even though neither of them could find out much on what was going on with the dead bodies, it all just gave off the feeling to him that a great threat was involved. By the time they would find out what was going on, it would probably be to late. There wasn't much the pirate could do in either stance, however he did feel the need to get back in shape. The fact that he was heavily breathing into Alice's personal space spoke wonders about it.

They paused from the streets to look up at the distant castle. Standing from the lower district and looking up at the view was quite exotic, even from a dank side of the capitol. The sunlight glimmered from a few bells that stood high, while the skies color began fading with the sunset in the background. "I fear the King's peace might be coming to an end."

"A peace that he never truely had in the first place." She felt relief that he had sensed the same shift as her. Alice had been trying to make sure Cyril had been eating and sleeping but she wasn't close enough to him for it not to be considered inappropriate.

"By the way, I get paid the standard rate of a Sentinel...Im just free of any binding. If I decide to leave then I may do so without fear of punishment." She cool stated as she ignored the alcohol smell on Dalious' breath.

"Ah, so our two boats sail simaril...sim, simularily? Similarly," he tried to say, unsure of whether his slurred speech was from the whiskey or from that word just being stupid. Either way, his point was that they made about the same amount of coin. There were also the benefits that came along, so all in all it wasn't a bad deal. Still, he felt he needed more. Much more, though he still knew his place.

"I feel like we deserve a raise, I'll make sure I put in a good word for you when I see the king again." He reached into his pockets and pulled out a single gold coin, quickly flipping it from finger to finger and then back again. All he had on him was all he had left, having lost a great majority of his private earnings due to various gambling, as well as the underground resources. Yes, it all went that fast. He knew he had a problem. He was broke again. "Or I'll get nervous before we reach the castle and just, run away." He looked down at his own posture and grunted. "Limp away."

Alice couldn't help but chuckle at his drunken state. "Anyone ever told you that you should cut back on the booze?" She eyed the good coin he had pulled out, "Or that you should set money aside? I know youre you're a pirate and daubatury is kind of your thing but still." She huffed as she knew he wasn't going to retain anything she was saying.

"Better yet, I'll make a deal with ya." A smirk spread across her face, "Get your shit together and I'll kiss you. No strings attached. Nothing. A reward for stopping these shenanigans and becoming of more use to His Highness and Barcea." Of course what did she have to lose? Either he kept his ways and got nothing from her or he got his shit together and she gave him a single kiss of sorts.

"I knew you had a crush on me," he instantly stated, not fully understanding all that was said and focusing solely on the prize at the end. He could go down as the dumbest sea captain that ever lived had he refused such a deal. He paused for a brief moment. No shenanigans. Beautiful bounty hunter. Dalious bit on his bottom lip as he thought. Her green eyes were already pulling him in. It was just another one of her magic tricks, far to powerful for him to overcome. "...and you have yourself a deal. I straighten up, you give me a kiss." He badly wanted to cross his fingers and lie his way to her lips, but he took oaths and deals quite seriously, especially ones from his own company. Though this deal had a bit of spice to it, it was still just a deal all the same. Besides, once he did kiss her, who's to say he couldn't go right back to his nonsense. "It had better be a good one."

Alice couldn't help but laugh again as he so quickly responded. "Get and keep your shit together and then we can talk."

...

They'd arrived back to the castle, Alice removing herself from under his arm as his support, "There. We are back. Can you make it back to your room without getting side tracked?"

"Probably not," he said. "I'll just have to manage." He was already heavily sidetracked, now seeing the bounty Hunter from a new light. No strings attached. Sure, he could play that game. Maybe. He wondered how true to her words she actually was. Dalious gently grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Always a pleasure.." He said and bowed, instantly cracking something in his back, though this time he held in the pain and kept his face calm. He wanted the kiss now, having already convinced himself that he was a changed man. Everything she was asking for he knew would be a challenge, but he always believed that the challenge was the gift. "To be continued."

Alice chuckled again as Dalious places a loss atop her hand, though she did wince at the loud crack his body made. Seeing him not react to it she gave a small bow back to him with a gentle smile. "Until next time." She responded as she moved to leave and return to her own quarters into the castle- amused with Dalious' antics yet still annoyed underneath it all at their lack of information.

Stark and Ser Godfrey

With everything that had happened within the last few day, Stark was at a loss as to what to do. She didn't know Ser Raizen well enough to travel with him and she had felt she’d been hovering and potentially smothering Christopher as of late; not to mention the annoying little voice in her head telling her she was doomed to fail in protecting yet another leader of hers.

With her forcing herself away from Chris, their teaching sessions on hold due to his injuries, she had been able to learn more about the people around her and gain first hand experience with a lot of new situations. Of course, she was more than happy to learn from those willing to teach.

Her mind had been wandering when she had crossed paths with Lady Alice who was barely able to hide the emotions I'm her face. The sniper stood in the empty hall with her fists balled and shaking. Stark realized she hadn't been seen yet as Alice turned and punched one of the stone walls several times before kicking it and wiping away the tears coming down her cheeks with a harsh frown. Alice barely acknowledged Stark, mumbling something about someone being mistaken and lying to everyone before rounding the corner to likely go back to her room.

Stark couldn't help but feel her heart twist for Alice. She wasn't handling news that Joachim had relayed all that well it seemed. Alice always trying to hide her emotions before utterly snapping. Stark had seen it before and she knew she was going to unfortunately see it again.

As such, Stark's mind began processing what she saw and immediately took off towards the town.

The girl looked around her surroundings before catching a glimpse of the place she needed to get to - Ser Godfrey’s clinic. She opened the door cautiously, keeping her manners in check, “Ser Godfrey? Are you here?” she called into the all too quiet store.

In his haste, the King had declared that Godfrey was basically his personal assistant. “Be on hand,” he said, “so that I may call upon you whenever I need your services.”

Fat lot of good that would do Godfrey’s line of work, or the people that relied on his small shop, or the others that relied on his… secondary work. He could almost taste the claustrophobia of the king’s collar closing in on him, and it made him uncomfortable.

Even so, though, it was probably not the best of ideas to refuse the king’s direct orders. He’d come back to his storefront to gather another set of materials-- this time, with fewer noxious chemicals-- to have on hand in his temporary-new-mobile-workshop that his handcart had become. Glassware, fuel sources, powdered reagents,vials of coloured chemicals… Many such materials were gathered on the countertop, being sorted into categories of ‘need to bring along’ and ‘should have ready to retrieve when necessary.’

In the midst of the mess, Godfrey sat, exhausted, on the edge of a low table, a small case open next to him. The case was filled with tiny glass ampoules, varying in color and luminosity, and arranged meticulously in the crushed velvet-lined interior. He ran his finger across each one, as if mentally taking note of what was in the case.

“A Rose in April, check… Barrow-Down Elegy, check… Steeple Romance, check…” he muttered, before suddenly and surprisedly being snapped back to awareness of his surroundings by the voice of the woman who’d opened his door. He carefully but quickly closed the case, engaging the puzzling lock mechanism on it as if it were second nature.

“Ah, yes?” he replied, and stood up to meet the woman. “I’m afraid my shop will be closed for a short time-- royal commission, you see--” he started, before locking eyes with the lady. He’d seen her, briefly, while he had been in the castle grounds, and struggled to recall if he knew anything about her.

“...though, I am sure you are aware of that,” he added. “What service can I offer you, madam?”

Stark heaved a quick sigh of relief as the man who had been called to the castle locked eyes with her. She gave a graceful and clearly practiced now before standing again with a slight smile. “Oh, please Ser, I am simply Stark. No need to be called Madame.” She calmly stated before continuing, “I do hope it's not too much of an inconvenience but is there anyways I could purchase pain relief medicines and possibly anti inflammatory from you? I’d have waited until you arrived at the castle but the one who requires it should have it sooner rather than later.”

The grey haired girl quickly added, “If it is too much of an inconvenience, as I do know you're returning to the castle, would you allow me to assist you? Two is typically better than one, yes?”

Stark. I will remember it. “Local anesthetic, or oral dosage?” he asked. “Pleasure to meet you, by the way. I apologise for my not being together, as it were.” He gathered a few little paper envelopes from the basket on the counter. “These should do well for reducing swelling and dulling pain, and this one will be fine for local application, to prevent infection and to numb the nerves in the area.” He paused. “Since I’m on the King’s silver now, and I can assume you are as well, I’ll just add it to the remaining cost for all those other materials that the H’Kelan queen so unceremoniously ‘borrowed’ for her little show. In exchange, instead, would you be so kind as to help me get back to the castle? Everything should fit on the cart, I just need to load it up.”

There was quite a bit of things to load up, but with two of them, it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes. With minimal effort and only a couple “be careful, this will melt the flesh from your bones if you spill it”-s, it was ready to return to the castle. While Stark wasn’t looking, he slid the case of colorful liquids into his apron pocket.

Stark paused for a moment before answering him, “Local application would likely be best.” truth be told she had no idea if that was true or not but why could it hurt. She pulled the envelope into her bag before pulling her coin purse out. “Oh no, Ser. I am here on my own accord, for a friend truthfully.” Stark just wanted to help but with his stating he would require her help she did mark it up as being a fair exchange.

Stark took explicit care with all of the unknown substances she was handling- especially the ones that made her nose tickle. As they finished she trained her slitted eyes on him with a smile, “I do hope you enjoy it at the castle. His Highness is very kind and most everyone is super accepting. Of course we have some oddities, such as myself, but we are all harmless.” She wasn't the greatest at small talk but it was a start.

“Harmless? Oddities? Whatever do you mean?” he said, inviting her responses. Surely the king had his inner circle of heroic tragedies, but the more he knew about them, the easier it would be for him to transition into the castle. They trudged onward.

“Surely each person has their own oddities and quirks, but I daresay it might not be fair to oneself to take on that title willingly.” He smiled a bit. “I might even be a little out of the ordinary, myself. There aren’t that many alchemists in town…”

...and none who can even come close to my work, he finished mentally.

“Well by oddities I mean children of Divines, shape shifters, uuuuuuuh. Let's see who else. Snipers and obnoxiously named pets. Pirates, old knights, Gifted and obviously royalty.” Stark looked rather pleased with herself as she gave vague descriptions of just a handful of the people Godfrey would meet.

She turned to look at Godfrey with a smile, “My ‘Uniqueness’ is not one that I took willingly. I am a water mage at heart and will try to keep to that for as long as I can before my changes happen.” She felt oddly calm speaking about her differences with this man- odd. Stark seemed to remember herself as she snapped back to reality, “Not to say that your alchemy is anything to snuff at! You see, we don't have anyone of your intelligence or skill set. Yes we have a healer but through magic. Your physical prowess is going to be invaluable- I think so at least.” She gave a slightly nervous laugh, “I meant no harm Ser. I highly respect those who are intelligent.”

She’s a magician, huh... he thought, and tried silently not to make any judgments about her before getting to know her a little. “You seem to have a varied cast of characters in your play,” he said cheerily. “I hope that my non-magical self will fit in!”

He noted the way she talked about herself. Changes? What could she mean, he wondered. He shook his head a bit. “Oh, no offense taken. I am just good at science, nothing really that special. I am not sure how useful I can be. My work is a little slow, you know-- surely you understand that alchemy can be a time-consuming process-- so I wonder why the king wants to keep me so close-by. Was it the forensics, maybe? I did nothing that charlatan of a magician didn’t also do, so that must not be it--” he said. Somewhere, the H’Kelan Queen might have sneezed.

They kept up simple conversation until their arrival at the castle. Godfrey would definitely be out of place, at least in his mind-- in an entourage full of literal children of deific figures, beings held together primarily by sorcery, and those with abilities he could likely only figure out with a prolonged study involving vivisection, the lone human chemist would stick out like a sore thumb, much to his chagrin.

“I understand I am to accompany the king on his journey,” he said, pulling the canvas cover a bit tighter on his cart as he stowed it. “I’m a mobile laboratory for now, so I needn’t unpack anything. Maybe I can help with the recipient of these medicines?”

“Perhaps when you were summoned and asked here for assistance he liked the way you looked at the situation and your ability to keep your head? New perspectives typically are always appreciated!” The way she spoke made it clear she was just trying to figure it out herself. “Oh,yes! Not everyone in the Sentinels or its allies can cast magic so don't ever feel ostracized.”

They finished the trip to the castle with relative ease and Stark seemed to bounce on her toes. “So you'll be traveling with his Highness? I am as well!” She got a bit ahead of herself before she added, “Oh, I dont think that will be necessary. Lady Leon isn't the type to be helpless. She's the sniper I mentioned earlier.” She said matter-of-factly. “However, perhaps meeting with Lady Diane would assist in future situations? She's the resident healing mage I mentioned. Though, she is a bit cold at first. She's very nice when it counts!” She blushed lightly as she realized she was rambling. “Ah, I'm sorry. I tend to drone when meeting interesting people….ahem. Anyways, is there anything else I can further assist you with? “

He shook his head. “If you have things covered with your patient, then I had better go back to my shop to make the last few preparations for it being closed for a bit. I’ll try to catch the Lady Diane at some point soon-- thanks for the recommendation!” he said. I will see how much better science can do her job, perhaps.

Running through the checklist of things he had left to do in his head, he mentally scratched out “move materials to castle.” With a grin he set his heels together, and nodded to the woman. “You were great help-- it would have taken twice as long without you. Thanks again! We will certainly have more time to chat later,” he said. He had a few more things to do before the shop was set to be locked up.

Stark nodded and smiled- giving a formal bow to the man. “It's not problem at all Ser. If you ever need assistance just let me know in the future alright?” She gave her best smile before turning and going off into the direction she believed Alice to be in.

Christopher and Alice

Her hand was bandaged snuggly, the bleeding having stopped a while ago, as she looked over the last of her items to back away. Since receiving the information of who their next enemy was Alice had hidden away in her room and taken to cleaning and organizing. Her weapons newly polished and primed were set aside as she finished packing essentials.

Finally putting it all together she pulled it into her back with ease before leaving out of her room. She moved through the halls only to fall short as words were exchanged between The Direwolf, Christopher and Vesta. Alice held her place and held her tongue until she knew The Direwolf was gone. A small flag went up in her mind as she pulled off her pack for a moment and pulled something out of an outside pouch.

Alice pulled her bag on quickly before catching up to where she saw Chris and Vesta. “You probably shouldn't bleed on Stark’s present this early on, Sparky.”

Christopher briefly tensed, before relaxing after realizing the one who had rapidly approached was in fact Alice. Briefly he glanced over to her, and then snorted ever slightly before he looked back forwards. Down below, his fingers flexed ever slightly, before he nodded.

”Good thing I’m not wearing it yet. Still got plenty of time to fuck it up, though. Going somewhere?”

Alice kept pace with him as she casually adjusted her pack, “I'm not traveling with the Liar and I'm not feeling up to keeping a nice front going for the King so I settled with you.” The jab clearly wasn't malicious- just part of their normal banter. “Besides, I figured a bit of extra sass and sarcasm could do you more good than big bad red bitching at you.”

”Liar? What do you- you know what, nevermind. Glad to have you with me.” He had given a shrug about halfway through, even while proceeding on through the hallways. ”The plan isn’t anything fancy; just a straight shot there. Ever been to Kyora before?”

Alice glanced at him with a warning look as he questioned her words only to look forward as he backed off. She kept quiet for a moment before sighing, “So a winding looping mess of a travel party towards the vague direction of Kyora, got it.” She lightly mused as they rounded another corner. “I have actually- several times. Not sure if everyone's forgiven me though…” Her words leaving off on a questionable point and her thoughts wandering for a moment.

“Oh yeah. Stark gave these to me to help with my own ignorance. Figured you could use this better.” She held out the item she had pulled from her bag- the antiseptic salve and pain relief. “Want me to put it in your bag?”

It was his turn to glance over, taking in the sight of the medicine before he gave a nod. His hand went to his own bag, holding it out in her direction to make what would come next easier for her. ”Go for it.”

Alice smirked before popping the bag open and putting the salve inside. She paused a moment to look him in the eyes, “Chris...are you going to be okay?” She wasn't being sarcastic or rude. She meant what she asked. “There are a lot of people who would rather you stay here and be safe than go out and start punching shit before you're ready. I know you're going to do it anyways but I need to hear it from you. Are you going to be okay?” She questioned once more.

He returned her look, his gaze calm as he quite bluntly said, ”I would rather die than be left behind, so don’t worry about me. I don’t even have a real dog in this fight and refuse not to go. I’m more worried about you.”

Alice tried to keep a straight face but his bluntness made her face break out into a smile and ever a chuckle. “I figured you'd answer something like that.” She released his bag, “Nah, don't worry about this broad. I might not be a demi divine but I think I can handle my own.”

”Not what I mean, but alright.”

“I know what you meant and either I'll be happily drinking by the end of this or picking fights with people who can kill me.” Alice shrugged, “If you need help with anything just ask. No questions asked I'll help.” She reached over and flicked the kid on the cheek. “Come on we need to get going.”

His hand came up to swat her hand away, even as he said, ”It’s why we haven’t stopped walking yet. Let’s give the Wanderer a run for his money.”

She stuck her tongue out at him like a child before frowning “I'll give him something to run from.” She grumbled under her breath before going quiet.

[Raijinslayer]

Nasir, Drosil, and Revali

---

A few days prior, Drosil's Quarters

---

"D-Divinesdammit!!" In a darkness barely illuminated by candlelight, Drosil bent over panting in exhaustion, his hand curled into a fist against the ground as he gazed with disdain and despair at the magic circle underneath him. His labored breaths, laden with muttered curses, would break into a fit of harsh coughing, splattering the stone floor with fat red drops of blood and phlegm that obscured the runes and lines that had taken him painstaking hours to create. A circle that would've taken him hardly one before his body had been . . . diminished to such a foul state. Looking down at his ruined work, his labored breathing gave way to a mirthless chuckle.

"Search for clues, he says, try to find out all you can. Tch, even if it's naught but a wild goose chase, what did he expect from me? From Shadar? Two cripples who don't know a damn thing or a damn person in this blasted city, one who's a monster and the other who can't even manage one. . . Lousy . . . SCRYING SPELL!!!" In a rage, the decrepit summoner lashed out with his remaining hand, nocking aside many papers, books, and even a few candles. Looking at the small flames burning atop the wicks, he noticed that he could easily just push one into a pile of books he'd been studying. Burn everything in this room within minutes, himself included. The thought held in his head for a moment longer, before quickly being dismissed as he reached out to right the fallen candles, hissing slightly as the hot candle wax spilled from the top, singeing his hand as it rapidly hardened atop his flesh. Looking down at it with his lone uncovered eye, he reached out to scratch the wax off, only to be reminded once more of his current condition. ". . . not even a stump is left to gesture with. Ends right at my shoulder. . . *sigh*."

Running a hand through his bedraggled hair, Drosil couldn't help but feel empty as he considered the truth of his situation. He was crippled in both body and magical ability, unable to do the only thing that gave his life meaning, that made him of use to anyone. Now, he was almost certain, he was kept around more as an object of pity then anything else. If it wasn't for Shadar, then Drosil would've left the castle long ago, either in a carriage. . . or a coffin. "Not that anyone would likely even care if I did. They'd say a few words, but I'd be easily forgotten within the month, just the quirky mage that ruin his own future. Heh, Perhaps I'd live on as a cautionary tale of dabbling in dark magics. 'Don't make packs with demons and shades, lest you end up like the poor bloke that crippled himself with such forbidden spells. Poor fool killed himself shortly after, unable to live on anymore. If you listen closely, you may even hear the agonized cries of misery his ghost makes as it struggles to work even the smallest miracle, only to be met with failure time and again, for all of eternity.'"

More joyless laughter filled the confines of his quarters, only to slowly degrade into wretched, body-shaking sobs of sorrow as Drosil curled in around himself, letting go of his grip on the world, the shadows of the void rolling over him. He'd been letting Shadar prowl about more and more recently. It made things easy. Kept his mind off his own useless existence, if only for a bit. Instead, he could just be one with the void that he went to when Shadar walked the plane of reality, allowing himself to let his mind empty of everything. In times, he wondered if this was what death felt like, this oppressive sense of nothingness that so often filled the void these days. And just as often, if not more so, he wondered if he should ever leave this plane. He was not but a poor, useless cripple, incapable of even minor conjurings, much less anything that could be considered useful. Like an old cow, he often felt that he'd rather be put out of his misery then live as a useless carry-on as he did now. At least then, he wouldn't have to worry anyone anymore.

---

Present

---

Drosil watched the proceedings of Joachim's revelation through distant eyes, wondering why he was even here. What use did he possible bring to this exchange. The only magic he had left about him was his Divine Gift, his Creation, and the Phoenix soul that burned within him. His ability to control the latter two, however, was all but gone along with his magic. He was dead weight, plain and simple, and that was likely all he ever would be from here on. Still, downtrodden as he was about his fate, he couldn't help the slight stirring in his heart as his lone eye fell upon the newly appointed Queen of H'kela, his swirling eye detecting the numerous magical taints that hung in the air around her. She was a true master of the dark arts and so he wondered if she could. . . but whatever the case, it was best not to hope for anything. At best, he wished for an explanation of why his magic was leaving him. That, at the very least, would give him some measure of peace.

As the meeting came to a halt and group separated, Drosil would approach Revali, clearing his throat in order to gain her attention before giving an appropriate low bow. "Queen Revali, It's a pleasure to meet a pracitioner of the arcane arts such as yourself. My name is Drosil Maeneld, a researcher from the Arcane University of Jasi, and I was hoping you might do me the honor of a short audience, a discussion of shorts. It'd be best if done. . . away from the Cyril and the others, as the subject is of a matter I'd rather not discuss where they might hear." Looking down towards the ground momentarily, Drosil's hand went to cover the remains of his right arm, a feeling of shame and despair washing over him before he shook it off, pasting the polite smile over his face once more. "I'm certain that you're busy, so if you'd not, then I shall trouble you no longer."

Revali's eye slowly traveled to Drosil, and only after he was finished speaking. Though he was over half a foot taller than her, the sort of look she gave him was one undeniably of looking down at something else, examining closely and then, deciding in a moment, there was nothing of interest there. To the untrained eye, it would have been the appearance of distaste, and for Revali it was certainly a close thing... But it wasn't quite on the mark. Rather, it was simply... indifference.

"If you insist..."

With the way the last syllable was sort of drawn out, lingering in the air between them, it was clear just what the Queen of H'kela thought of the possible conversation. However, she it wasn't an out-and-out no, so as she turned to begin to walk it seemed that he was meant to come along. The nearby Nasir, meanwhile, was given a direct invitation with the way she beckoned towards her guard, but that was the only pause before she set off towards the door at a brisk pace.

"Let me guess... You're wondering what you can do now that you've ruined yourself so thoroughly, so you're finally deciding to go ask someone with a little more experience in the dangerous matters you tried toying with for a bit of help."

It wasn't a question, but a statement.

The Queen barely needed to beckon Nasir over as he was already making long strides over toward her. He had the lower part of his wrap had been pulled up since they had arrived in this city. Not only did he find many of smells offensive but he did not want these soft people to see his face. It was better if he was a faceless and mean man from another land. His desire to go to the Queen after the events of the ritual was doubled by the presence of this interloper that was walking up to her brazen as could be. Were these people so undignified that they did not even understand their station? Who was this cripple who would dare afflict the vision of royalty with his visage. Nasir's mask concealed a cruel smile when he had been beckoned over. Ah yes, it would be good to vent his frustration on this man. It would not be a good fight, but, he would settle for a good beating.

However, when he arrived the Queen was just talking to him. She was not sending him away or giving Nasir the order to remove him. Nasir hissed a breath of irritation through his teeth as he arrived. He turned and gave his Queen and solid salute and then turned to the old cripple. If Revali was giving him a disinterested look and tone, Nasir was openly hostile. His dark eyes glared at the man, staring a hate that is born only from someone who thinks you are unworthy to even live. When Nasir turned to face the man he tapped the but of his spear on the ground suddenly, placing himself between the man and his Queen. Based on the few words he had heard Revali speak, this was not just some beggar or wretch. He was something connected to the Dark Arts. That set the guard on edge. Even the weak of body could be dangerous when they wanted to be. He would need to be more on guard than normal.

Nasir took his place by Revali and making sure to keep himself between the old man and his charge. He stayed silent. Unlike this man, he knew his place in the world and speaking for the Queen was not his place. Nor could he lecture her about harming herself when she had him or any of his men that would gladly have sacrificed their nails for her ritual. It was hard to guard the Queen's personage when she injured herself so suddenly. He gathered his energy for a moment and formed his Cohesion ability while he listened. He extended it to Revali, if she would accept. He knew she was a far better hand at magic than he was, in the Dark Arts in particular. He wanted her connected to him so that he could have access to her magical instincts and she could use his own trained reactions. That would make this man less than a threat to say the least if he was an assassin. As a secondary aspect, the two of them would be able to communicate silently if it needed to be done.

Revali's less than enthusiastic response didn't phase Drosil in the least, having expected such a response from what little he could figure out from her during his observation of her behaviors during the meeting Cyril had convened. Her guard attempt to cow him with a glare, or so it seemed to Drosil, but the summoner was more interested in the light pallor of magic that surrounded the man, his good eye swirling as he studied it. I guess it only makes sense, given H'kela's penchant for militarizing magic, that she'd have a guard with the ability to use it. Still, he doesn't seem the type and. . . what is that? The vortex of gold and emerald would follow the flow of magical energy as it spread away from the man towards the Queen, seeing through the veil to discern it's function.

"Interesting. . . " Drosil eye glittered with curiosity as he slowly came to understand this strange magic he witnessed. While really a simple concept, connecting the minds and senses of multiple individuals, the amount of control and mental fortitude to be able to keep up such a spell was nothing to sneeze at. He looked towards the man again with a newfound respect before turning his head back to the queen, having listened to her promptly guess the situation with almost exact accuracy. "You speak as if I have a litany of experts of the Dark Arts to go to, your Majesty. It's a rather niche area of study, especially within the borders of Barcea. But still, your assumption is almost perfectly correct. While some matter of direction for my life would be fantastic, I'm more curious as to why my injuries have led to a decline in my magical abilities ever since the fight with the Advisor."

Reaching into a pack by his side, he pulled out his notes on the spells and spirits that he had used in that battle to give him the power he had accumulated. In it one would find intricate details of the planes that he had drawn from, the magical circles he'd used, and the exactitudes of the many rituals he had performed, from the simple lighting of incense sticks to the acts f self-mutilation he had enacted to draw the spirits to him from their world of shadows and death. However, instead of moving to hand them directly to the Queen, he presented the book to the guard she had brought with her. "Given the aura around you, good sir, I assume that you have have enough magical knowledge to search for curses, hexes, and the like, so if you would like to look it over to ensure it's safe for the queen, then please be my guest. Though, if you wouldn't mind, I have a question to ask you. That spell you cast earlier. . . is it something common in H'kela, or something that you created yourself. Given the complexity of it and the lack of groups of soldiers during the war that seemed to fight in a manner that used such a tactic, I'm inclined to say no, but I could be wrong." While his face remained as peaceful and passive as he had seemed up until that point, his swirling eye gazed at the man with a somewhat challenging glare. He knew how the H'kelan's valued strength, so he figured a little powerplay would be needed to get at least some respect, though he also noted that Revali wasn't the average H'kelan either. Looking at her, he couldn't help but be reminded of the librarian from the Renata library that he had briefly met before, as their demeanor bore an extreme resemblance to each other.

"Don't answer that, Nasir. If he happens to be on the right side of things, he'll learn soon enough." The Queen didn't wait for the guard to reach out, her instead taking the papers without hesitation. With the grace that came with plenty of practice she both walked and read at the same time, but she did so with a sort of speed that almost seemed unnatural. What should have taken hours, at the very least minutes took her just a few seconds, and soon she was holding them back out to Drosil; the mage would only have a moment to take them before the Queen released them whether he had a grip on them or not.

"If I had to put it simply, you were broken, Jasian. You went up to a superior force with all of your arrogance and perceived skill, and you cracked as it was crushed right in front of your eyes. It's a matter of confidence now, and of the kind that can't be cured with medicine." She did not look to see just what kind of reaction she might have received from her words, her gaze already turning to Nasir instead as she said, "If you're lucky, starting over with the very basics, as if you never learned magic in the first place, might awaken something in you. I'd also check how you summoned those shades once again though; preferably with someone who has an idea with what they're doing. I, however, don't have the time for you beyond that. Next time maybe consider you have a contact to two of the greatest masters of the Dark Arts already."

For her head guard, she had something different to say entirely. "I want you there in Kyora before the King arrives. The Phantasm seems intent on keeping others out of it as much as he possibly can, so if it happens to end before the main group arrives I at least want a witness there, who saw what happened and what was used. Take good notes if you have to." She reached up ever slightly, adjusting the heavy cloth on her left shoulder, briefly a careless flash of sheer disappearing just as quickly. "Don't concern yourself with me. I'm going to return to the comforts of my own home."

Nasir had not planned to tell the man anything. He was not going to speak unless he was addressed directly by Revali. He really had nothing to say to this cocky green-lander. He had dabbled in things that were beyond his ken and found them far too much for himself. He looked old, perhaps he wasn't though from the odd way he carried himself,and had been outclassed by the young Queen he guarded. That was something he found rather funny. Then again, suddenly Nasir was in a better mood when he heard Revali give the man the dismissal. He couldn't keep the smile from his masked face and it touched his exposed eyes slightly. She might not have been as assertive and commanding as he might like her to be, but, no one could brush someone off quite as well as the woman he served.

The Commander looked down at met the eyes of his Queen as she gave him his command. He let out a slow breath through his nose, irritated. He knew there was a great deal of wisdom in her words. There always was in truth. Going out to see what this Phantom was going to do and making sure to arrive before the anticipated group was a good plan. However, the details of that grated on the old soldier. He did not want to leave the Queen without his vigil in these times of strife. His men were good and he trusted them, but, he was the core of the fighting force. Her last statement to him was an impossible order to follow. His eyes darted to the side for a moment seeing the material underneath her over-clothes. He turned his gaze back to her eyes just as quickly. His eyes were hard and rebellious, but, that passed just as quickly as his previous glance had been.

"I will do as you command, Your Majesty." Nasir gave her a small bow. He did speak again though while his head was bowed. He spoke in a low voice he hoped only she could hear. "It is my purpose and station to concern myself with you, Your Majesty. I can not fulfill that last order." he raised his head and returned his gaze to her. His look was one that said he would follow his orders without another word, but, he did not like it.

“Heh. . . I wouldn’t think you the kind to make jokes, your grace.” Drosil said with a dry chuckle, tapping his notebook against his side as he went over the litany of mental note within his, considering all of the formulae and minute details of the rituals in closed within. As she continued on, a frown crossed his face for a moment as he tried to recall who the queen could be talking about, as no one that he knew besides himself was versed in the dark arts. In fact, the only time he could remember meeting another practitioner was. . . “Hmm. . . I’m not too sure how welcome I would be if I did have the capability to venture back to those two. Accidentally laid waste to her garden during a summoning ritual, which I can’t imagine her being to happy about, hehe. Still, I shall heed your advice and, hopefully, find someway to reverse this. I thank you for taking even this short amount of time to entertain my question.”

Again he bowed to her, thinking back to his time in his homeland, of the courts and behaviors of those in power. Like Kori, Revali was a different sort, closer to a scholar of the University(albeit a closed off, anti-social one) then the ruler of a kingdom. She seemed to lack the interest of ruling, but he doubted that meant she lacked the ability and skill. I wonder what the kingdom of H’kela will be like in the coming years under her reign. Ruminating on these thoughts, he wondered if he had anything else to say before making his departure when the Queen mentioned about sending her guard out to head of Cyril and the others in making way for Kyora. This turn of his attention also meant he caught the flash of flesh underneath the robe, though like Nasir, he was quick to look away, if a bit red in the face. After that bit of shock, he collected himself quickly before coming upon an idea of sorts.

“Your Grace, if I may interject. . . has your man ever been to the land of Kyora? I’ve no doubt he could make his way there quickly, but as a seasoned traveler, I could guide him there quicker then most, having knowledge of several ruins of arcane origin that offer quickened transit between here and there, as well as just natural shortcuts via underground tunnels and ancient magically powered transit systems. There is one in Barcea, for example, that could cut quite a bit of time off the journey, though it does have a rather. . . Unorthodox security system.” Turning towards the guard, he looked the man up and down, scratching his chin as he muttered to himself under his breath, his voice fluidly sliding between a multitude of languages, though returning to the common tongue for those listening to make out the words ‘shark automatons’, ‘pain in the ass’, and ‘welts the size of large coins’. Soon coming back to his senses, Drosil turned his attention back to the Queen, waiting for her reply, or possibly even that of her guard if he deemed to speak his probable distaste for the idea.

If asked why he offered such a thing free of prompting, he’d respond simply. “Force of habit from my time in Jasi, I don’t like owing favors to nobles, royalty, or anyone for that matter. Leaving a favor unpaid is generally considered unwise in the political climate of our oligarchy and anyone involved with it, as it’s leverage that can be easily used against you. I’m certain that a similar philosophy could probably be found in your own country of H’kela, no?”

The Queen's response to what Drosil had to say was simple and short: "I don't care." Her gaze then turned back to Nasir, her saying, "You know your mission at this point. How you accomplish it is up to you." With that, she kept continuing on her way, at a slightly brisker pace; clearly, she considered her part of the conversation done, and wasn't interested on being pulled back in once again.

Nasir watched his Queen go. His face set in a grimace of irritation. There was nothing to do about it though. She was completely right. He did have his orders and he would complete them. Nasir had never been one for disobedience when it came to direct orders. If he ever threw off the orders of his superiors then his men could do the same to him. He was an example. His teeth gritted together slightly as he released the Cohesion he had sent out to Revali. His dark eyes turning to face the crippled man he was left with.

"I am finding myself in need to a quick path. You have a way, it seems." his voice was dripping with contempt in its deep rasp that passed from behind his veil. "The way you mentioned sounds dangerous. Is it as fast as it is dangerous?" he asked, his accented speech adding a little more throaty and music to the words he spoke than there should be. Nasir turned his body toward the man fully and flexed his hand on the haft of his spear. "I am thinking we may need more people to go this way. I can not use my men for this, Her Majesty will need them all." Nasir let out a slow breath through his nose. Trying to relax himself and finding it worked slightly.

Here he stood. In a place he did not like, talking to someone he did not like, about a plan he did not like, going somewhere else he would not like. He waited for the man's response. He hoped he already knew of some people who were planning on taking this route, or another safer yet still fast way. He could not wait to arrive with the body of the group traveling with the King here. It would be slow and ponderous. He needed to make sure he arrived quickly and in a way that was unexpected. If this Phantom was as dangerous as they seemed, they would need surprise and un-orthodoxy on their side.

Watching Queen Revali walk briskly away from Drosil and her guard, the mage couldn't help but wonder if this woman even wanted to rule. Everything about her demeanor suggested an individual who would rather spend all their time researching within the darkest depths of a library, not leading a country. Well, at least she didn't just blow me off completely as I expected, though I wish she could've bothered to be a touch less cryptic with her advice.

However, before Drosil could ruminate on the woman's words or why in the name of the Divines she walked around seemingly naked beneath her cloak, the guard approached him about his proposed short-cut, as well as if he knew of any others that would be willing to go. Scratching at his chin, the summoner's eye going to and fro before coming to a conclusion.

"I have a good idea about who would be willing to accompany us, and if I'm correct, he's likely already on his way. So we best hurry. I'll fill you in about the shortcut as we travel. It's a rather fascinating discovery, actually, and says a lot about how the ancient peoples of this land differed from us in their perception of magic." And so it would be that Drosil would drone on and on about the subject of ancient magic technologies and ruins as he led the man through the castle. While likely to be a tad dull to one that didn't live and breathe magic like Drosil did, it wasn't all useless trivia. Between his talk about ancient formulae and magical energy degradation, he'd note the many different types of traps and guardians he encountered, their likely attack patterns, weaknesses discovered by studying their remains. By the time he finished his little lecture, they'd be coming around the corner to witness the backs of Christopher, Vesta, and Alice. "Ah, looks like he had a similar idea as you. We should probably hurry to catch up with them, yes? I still need to gather a few supplies from my quarters before we head off. I assume that you don't need anything, right, . . um. . I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name."

The man was annoying. Not only did he insist on speaking even though Nasir was not even remotely interested in the topics he was going on about, he continued to speak. Nasir supposed it was the curse of being in a land where you could find water anywhere. You could afford to run your mouth when you lived in a land where being parched was not common for anyone but the street rats and beggars. He did listen when the man he traveled with mentioned weaknesses and some of the guardians they might come across. The Commander gave him no response though. The less he had to speak that language the better. Language changed the way you thought and Nasir wanted nothing of the Green-lander's thoughts in his head.

Seeing the other ground gave him some heart. At least they did not look as mangled as this man. Perhaps they might have had some sense in their heads and not dabbled in arts they were not ready for. As the cripple stopped speaking and asked him name, Nasir looked at him for the first time since they began this little voyage. "Nasir na Jahlin K'heldra." he answered, no hint of emotion in his voice. "Commander will suffice for your needs, Nasir, if you must." The Commander turned his gaze back to the other three people, starting to take their measure. "You are correct. I am ready to travel. Go get your things." the last part of his statement came out as a curt command, issued from a man used to being obeyed, "Make haste. Slow us and be left." without another words he moved off toward the other group, taking long strides. The faster he got all of this over with the faster he would be able to get home and back to his purpose. Nasir raised the hand not on his spear and hailed the group. "I am Nasir na Jahlin K'heldra, Commander of Her Majesty Revali's Queensguard. I understand you are leaving. I am coming with you." He stopped and proper spear fighting range and nodded to them, like the matter was settled.

Christopher gave a slight start when, suddenly, a voice rang out, and it caused him to turn suddenly to face it. Briefly, he thought that the Paladin had found him or had found out his plan, but he berated himself for that ridiculous thought; this new man's voice wasn't too much like Dubois', and clearly Christopher himself was just being twitchy. Briefly his eyebrows rose ever slightly at the sight not just at the H'kelan Commander, but Drosil at well. For a moment he almost said no, but a twinge in what was left of his arm held his voice for him. He at least kept himself from reaching over to grip it slightly, so the moment of near refusal passed without even the slightest acknowledgement.

He sighed, shrugged, and then said, "Sure, whatever, but hurry up. I'd rather get out of here before anyone tries to stop us." Christopher didn't have any problems working with a H'kelan, not having reservation like a blue-blooded Barcean may have had, so perhaps it was fortunate that he was the one leading the group along. Despite everything, he was prepared to give Nasir a chance... In a way, just like he was ready to give Drosil a chance as well.

"If either of you need anything, we'll be waiting at the servant's entrance in the kitchens."

[moonfelling]

Outside the Capitol

Joachim Raizen left the castle of Barcea without any sort of fanfare, having not even said any sort of private goodbyes beforehand, and he wouldn't have preferred it any other way. In that moment, speed was all he had on his mind, and for that he required no frightened farewells to cast doubt, or the need for any horse. All he needed were his two feet and the road.

There was plenty of road in front of him as well, there was no doubt about it. With no supplies he set out on the great Western Road, one that would eventually end in Kyora. He clearly had some sort of plan in mind, considering who it was; setting out without any sort of resources beyond his own blade, empty bags, and his hat pulled down low however, was a curious decision to say the least.

The best laid plans...

Nia had not gone directly to the castle after arriving in the city. Instead, she had planned on a spending a day being another face in the crowd and getting to know the lay of the land. It always proved useful to know the way if something went awry and she needed a quick escape, and it gave her the opportunity of picking up on some ever-so-juicy rumors. Of course, these rumors always proved to either be absurd, such the royal stables housing a Deathcrawler, or trashy, such as the newly crowned King’s former romance with the publican of an inn, but Nia still enjoyed collecting them in the way some people would collect foreign currency. Plus, she always found that the more information that she had to share, the more information someone would give back to her in return. It was useful. Very useful.

However, as the day passed into the next an interesting tale began to spread through the city like a wildfire, and Nia could feel her cheeks began to burn with anger as the rumor tickled her ear: the Queen of H’kela was coming to crash the Barcean celebration. Revali could not have come at a more inopportune time; the next day Nia would’ve gone to the castle, pulled out her cover letter, and begun pretending to be a simple H’kelan ambassador. That was no longer the case. Surely Revali would know who and who were not her ambassadors, or at least someone in her company would—Nia’s impression of the girl was that she was never quite completely there.

Regardless, Nia was locked out of more conventional means, which was fine to her: things were often more fun this way. So while the Sentinels searched in secret, Nia stalked from the shadows. She didn’t see every sight nor hear every whisper, but she gathered from voices that were too loud and lips that were too loose to paint a picture. In the broadest strokes, it seemed that some loser from Guratan let some bastard Gifted get the drop on her, and in his infinite wisdom the King decided he would head to Kyora to hunt this man down. Nia could careless about any of this, really, except that Ennis thought that the King was the one who would know the most about Revali’s secret benefactor. Perhaps if she got to Kyora first and gathered information on this man the King would be so kind as to share anything he knew.

It was the best plan she had right now, and that was mostly due to it being her only plan. She’d have to make haste if she wanted to beat Cyril and his men there, so the woman in black saddled up as quickly as she could and headed to the Western Road. Plus, it was nice knowing that she wouldn’t have to spend anymore time in the Barcean city; all of the decorations were absolutely gaudy and just completely dreadful. She was ready for the open road again, excited to have the foreign city at her back and the wind through her hair, and as she passed through the gate she spurred her horse onward into a fast gallop.

She caught a blur of purple as she sped past on her mount, nearly colliding with the figure before she veered slightly to the side to pass it by without trampling it. She shouted something at the lone wanderer that most certainly wasn’t polite, but was also impossible to determine. However, Nia realized that she actually recognized that bundle of purple as she begun to round a bend, and pulling on the reins she spun her horse around and trotted back to the man that was trying to hide underneath a hat. It did no good; she knew that she had been right. The purple robe had been no wanderer, it had been the Wanderer.

“My, my, I nearly didn’t recognize you there. Normally you’d be surrounded by a river of bodies, or so they say,” said Nia with a sneer, her boots kicking up dirt as she jumped off of her horse. She walked in a circle around the man, staring at him in the same way a curator would appraise a vase. “Personally, I don’t believe in fairy tales, and the last time we met you didn’t really strike much of an impression: more of a bored bodyguard than some monstrous manslayer." She gave the insult a second to marinate before adding, "Divines, I’m just teasing.” She stopped back in front of the man, her voice softening with a quiet chuckle. “We’re not around a bunch of stuck-up rich folks right now, no need for us to act so hoity-toity.”

“You, uh, you don’t remember me, do you?” she asked, her body deflating ever so slightly.

For just a moment it seemed like Nia would certainly run over that purple blur, the Wanderer seeming unaware of it; but then again the Wanderer seemed like he was unaware of everything at all times, and yet had the uncanny ability to subtly act to preserve himself or someone else. The same could be said in that moment Nia shot past him, as just before he had taken a slight step towards the side that, combined with the swerve on Nia's part, had ended up with him not getting run over.

It had seemed like she would pass by without recognize him, especially with his head down, but that was all for naught. Sighing gently as she came to a stop, he walked until he was before her horse, stopping there and letting her circle around him. One hand came up, slightly shifting the rounded hat up some, so that he might actually speak to her. Already, he had covered his scar with bandages once again, to keep it out of sight as well.

He gave his gentle smile, the one that bordered on meek, eyes closing ever slightly as he spoke. "Do not worry, he remembers you." He spoke in an almost consoling manner, having noted how she seemed to be disheartened about not being recognized. "He wishes that you had been met in slightly better circumstances, but there was little he could do about that at the time... Just like there is little he can do now about the unfortunate circumstances. He is unable to stop now, he must move, so if you will excuse him..." Shifting his hat back down, he began to try to step around her and her horse, but he already felt like it was a useless gesture.

"Hey now, hey now," said Nia as her voiced picked up, stepping to block the man's path. "You're making me feel as if I'm unwanted! I know I acted pretty unbecoming back there in the Kirun, but that was all just for show. Our sides were technically at war with each other, you know." She waved her hand dismissively. "I don't really care about that, but you gotta play your part. Besides, why the rush?"

It was the Wanderer's turn to deflate ever slightly, a weak sort of murmur of protest leaving his lips briefly as his path was, in fact, cut off once again. He adjusted his hat ever slightly, shoulders curled as he said, "It is not due to the fact that he doesn't wish to speak with you, it's just that he cannot at the moment... He has somewhere he must make it to as quickly as possible, for the safety of everyone, so he can't be delayed..."

"Well, I think if you're trying to go as quickly as you can I think you've already dropped the ball on that one," she said, patting her hand against her horse. She smiled. "Tell you what, since I've delayed you, and since I was so very rude to you before, let me do you a favor." She put her foot in the stirrup and climbed on to the saddle, scooting forward so that there was room for one other. She gestured to the space behind her with her hand. "I've had this horse for years. He's quick; much quicker than any horse you can get in Barcea, and that's including carrying an extra rider. I'm headed to Kyora; I can take you as far as there."

"That is," she said playfully, "unless he was just trying to be polite, and truly doesn't wish to speak with me."

For a moment he was quiet, and then he looked to her, smiling gently once again. "He appreciates your offer, but it isn't really necessary. He moves better without a horse, so he doesn't need one. So, he does not need to burden your beast as well. But truly, he greatly appreciates it."

"Oh, well, okay then," said Nia, somewhat surprised that she had been turned down. Still, it didn't matter what the man said—she was going to force him to deal with her, like it or not. He was obviously part of the King's inner circle if serving as one of his few guards over the man's needlessly large entourage told her anything, and even if he didn't know any information he could serve as an inroad to someone who would. Already she was calculating the steps out in her mind: reach Kyora with the Wanderer, earn his favor, use him to get close to Cyril, and get the information she needed. She trotted her horse to the side to give the man room to move on, waited a second, and then turned the horse back west. Nia rode right alongside the Wanderer, matching his pace perfectly.

"She forgot we're headed the same way. So," she said, dragging out the word as she trotted along, "shall they just continue on in an awkward silence, or will he break the ice by telling her why you are in such a hur—do you always speak like that?" she asked, interrupting her own question. "It must get incredibly confusing; what if you're talking about yourself and another man? He thinks that he should not have his lunch since he did not make it and it belongs to him, so he took his sandwich out of his hand and ate it in front of him. Ugh," she said as she rubbed her temples, "she just gave herself a headache just thinking about it. What a nightmare!"

The Wanderer seemed to shrink slightly; whether or not it was due to the fact that Nia was still following along with him, or that now she was grilling him about the way he spoke. He allowed the rant to pass, and then quietly he mumbled, "It is not as confusing as you are making it out to be... He only has to specify as necessary, and has more than enough practice at this point making sure people who are listening can understand him..."

And then he shook his head, straightening. "But he recommends not travelling with him. Ride faster if you can or slower if you like, but he is not a good travelling partner. It is not safe for you to be seen with him, and he wishes to place as few as he can into danger. So, please, for your own sake leave him."

"Danger?" she said in an exaggerated tone, playing as if she was truly afraid by clapping a hand over her mouth. When she removed it moments later she revealed a smile. "That sounds just like the sort of thing that I need! I've been busy babysitting lord's sons for so long that the thought of another day where my life isn't on the line makes me want to kill myself. So," she leaned down so that she could whisper to the man, "what kind of danger are you going to get me in?"

Slowly he sighed, his eyes shutting, before he said quietly, "Those sent by Shisor Yaguar, the Gifted who should be dead."

She blinked, and then quietly whispered back, "I don't know who that is."

"... He doesn't know whether to be shocked or pleased..."

---

The Western Road

Joachim's plan was simple, and with the addition of Nia wouldn't really change. They would take the Western Road at first, before cutting northwest towards Kyora by leaving the road and carving through the forest. They would stop at two villages along the way, the first soon after leaving the Capitol while on the road, and another the second day as they prepared to enter the forest. For both visits it would be to purchase a certain number of supplies, as Joachim wanted to travel as light as they could for all possible speed.

The village they stopped in was nothing special, not too large, but still for the sake of time Joachim sent Nia on some errands as well; he wanted her to gather food, while he went for some tools, the kind of which he would not further describe. He did not wish to take more than fifteen minutes, and so when he had found the blacksmith in the village he was in and out quite quickly, carrying a new bag over his shoulder as he did so.

All it was was a simple stop for supplies, and for the most part that was all it was. The village was still ... but not for long. While Joachim walked, commotion was raising. The crowd in the street was shifting, quicker and quicker until he could see a young woman parting the crowd at a crossroad, skidding to a halt. She was dark-skinned and dark-haired, an ebony black cloak billowing about her form - and she was being chased. The hurried look in her eyes was enough of an indicator.

"GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE BITCH!"

Hearing the scream, the girl began peeling through the crowd. Swiftly, she shouldered through every perso in her path, keeping her eyes peeled ahead, but keeping them behind her, too. Unfortunately, there was one shorter member of the crowd she couldn't quite notice off the bat.

And that was how she barreled right into Joachim, shouting in alarm as they both pitched to the ground in a heap.

"URYA!?"

While the young woman hadn't seen Joachim at all, he had seen her... And he had seen her coming as well. Watching her rapid approach become hectic, he had looked back and forth, before back forwards just the moment before she crashed into him; his eyes were wide, mouth dropped open in a silent gasp that was some sort of mix between fear and shock.

And then he was hit, arms limply flailing upwards to end up around her as the two tumbled backwards. They hit the ground heavily, but being in between her and the ground she was fairly protected as he was... well, squished, for lack of a better term. His head seemed to hit the ground rather hard as well, and clearly he was stunned- so stunned, in fact, that his limbs were locked up, keeping her in place.

"Get off! You - !" With a frustrated noise, the girl writhed in Joachim's arms.

Behind them, a more official figure finally made it to where she could see the two. The crowds were immediately parting for what seemed to be a military official storming through the street - an armed one, at that. The younger girl seemed to get even angrier now, finally managing to pop from Joachim's grasp and stumble to her footing again.

As soon as she did, though, the older figure's arm went up, fist clenching as a length of chain burned into existence between her wrist, and the young girl's. It was enough to yank the girl back rather harshly with her pace, causing her to fall over again... and smash her head into where Joachim's was already laying.

"... Bakayaro..."

"Fucking finally." Storming forward, the militant reached down, grabbing the girl by the shoulders and hauling her up. Looking down at Joachim, she stooped down a little bit, one of her hands entering her pockets. "Wowwwwww. You really did a number on this little shrimp. What the Hell did I say about running, huh? You okay, pal?"

". . ." Silent, the girl just looked away bitterly, closing her eyes without a comment.

On the ground, Joachim was the image of perfectly stunned. His eyes were dazed, unfocused as he simply stared upwards, seeming to look past the official looking woman who loomed over him. Back and forth his head tilted some, as if trying to reset himself, before his eyes fluttered and he blinked several times. With that, he sat up-

And his head went straight into the official woman's, hitting quite hard before he ended up falling backwards once again, his head crashing against the ground once more.

"YEOW! You mother - !" Straightening up again, the militant rubbed her head, catching her hat as it came toppling off from the blow. "Ugh... Patrons above..."

Just barely, the younger girl's mouth wibbled, as though she was stifling a laugh. Taking a breath, the pursuer seemed to calm herself down before taking a long drink from a silver flask, tucking it away before grabbing Joachim and helping him back up to his feet.

"Causing so much damn trouble... One pitstop without this shit is all I'm asking... Are you okay?" She repeated, removing her hands from the smaller man and straightening her tie.

Up Joachim went, easily lifted to his feet. There was a bit of a show as he stumbled back and forth, ending up gripping on the chain with both hands as he put all of his weight on it with one sway, before he released it and straightened once again. His head shook, and one hand came up, rapidly rubbing against a perceived bump as he looked back and forth between the two... strange persons.

"... He is fine, don't worry. Merely a little more bruised than before, perhaps."

The weight of the man yanked the chain inward, expectedly so. With a pair of noises signifying their small surprise, the two nearly bumped shoulder to shoulder, scowling at each other before the chain once more demateralized.

"Well, ain't that good to hear. This one's hard head didn't crack through yours, at least."

"....." Still, the other girl was silent, staring at Joachim with keen, narrow eyes, as though she were staring straight through him.

Slapping her against the back, the older woman shook her head, grabbing onto the girl's ear tightly. "Hey, quit fucking staring. It's rude, and we don't have time for this. Sorry for all the trouble, yada yada, safe travels. Can't wait until Cyril gets a load of this shit..."

Even still, the girl kept staring at Joachim. Maybe she just didn't understand plain English, or maybe she was just ignoring her captor. It was hard to tell.

Every so often, Joachim would glance to the girl, without really looking at her. They were only brief moments, as he seemed to resituate himself, but in comparison to her he seemed to be... undeniably small, and out of the way. He remained that way as he looked to the taller woman.

"Cyril? As in the new King? He very rarely hears others refer to him as his given name..."

Blinking a couple of times, the older woman seemed to grow a bit of a frown over her lips. "... Yeah. The new King, I guess. You know him personally, or something? A Sentinel?"

He gave a slight shake of his head. "No, not exactly... but a friend and an ally, to be certain."

"Well, shit." The woman stood back a little, lips crooking into a wide, almost malevolent grin. "I guess that makes two of us! I mean, I guess you could say I'm his best friend, but I won't toot my own horn about that too much. We just kind of go way back..."

Shaking her head, she snickered to herself, rocking on her heels. "So, how's the blue-haired son of a bitch doing these days, anyway? I've been in Bellamy so long, I only get to hear about shit weeks after it goes down..."

"He is.... well enough, he supposes." He smiled slightly, almost wearily. "But he will be leaving Barcea for a few days, as well, on business."

"Leaving?" She sputtered. "On business? Business where?"

"He has probably said too much already..."

"Tell me more. We've got some urgent business to report, you know!"

Joachim let out a very slow sigh, seeming to deflate in the process. Perhaps by the end of the journey he would be completely flat. "The King must leave the Capitol for a little while to deal with some business. That is all he should really say..."

"Where." The woman got a little more serious, then, glaring at Joachim fiercely.

"Wherever this one's going, assumedly..." The girl finally spoke up, shaking her head.

Joachim's eye twitched ever slightly then, him shrinking away from both slightly. "Again, he shouldn't say. He hopes you'll understand."

Twitching, the older woman seemed to get even more angry, even without speaking. Her face really said it all...

"Listen," the younger one spoke up again, crossing her arms. "Before this one explodes on you, take my advice. He won't stop bugging you, and you're just going to cause problems. May as well speak up. When we say 'urgent' we really mean urgent."

Her gaze passed over to him, looking him up and down before back to his face. "Someone who reeks of the Abyss like this should understand urgent."

"... Why must things always become complicated..." He gave a slow, drawn out groan before his head fell. "There is business in Kyora. Truly urgent."

The militant seemed a little more pleased now, perking up a little with a smile. She opened her mouth to speak before the younger one cut her off, storming up to Joachim and getting in his face.

"Why Kyora? Is the old man alright?"

"Kid, what the hell?" Rolling her eyes, her companion put her hands onto her hips. "Anyway... if that's where he's going, that's where we're going too."

Joachim leaned up and back away from the younger one, his eyes widened as he startled. Slowly, he looked from the younger to the elder, frowning some.

"... It might be better if you just wait in the Capitol, actually... The less involved, the better...."

"Nope!" Smiling, the militant clapped her hands together. "Anyway, we're your new travel buddies. Name's Remy! Remy Bellamy. This is -"

"Yarinaosu Kaishu." Still, the younger one was staring at Joachim, her eyes intense and even seeming to glow a little. "I agree. I'm not passing up a trip to Kyora."

Slowly he sighed, before he began to turn; murmuring to himself, he just started to walk along, not looking back.

---

A Village the Next Day

Joachim did not explain the two additions to Nia beyond muttering a simple word: "Guests." Instead, he chose to immediately return to the road, and to continue to tally up miles rather than anything else. He was not intent on stopping in another village that night, as he was paranoid that would endanger the residents if Yaguar's network, which was undoubtedly watching their travel, decided to ensnare him then and there; better to sleep under the stars instead, off the road and out of sight.

The night passed without incident, whether it was due to the Wanderer's precaution or simply because nothing was going to happen in the first place. They continued on their way, but a few hours into the travel the Wanderer finally led them off of the road entirely. Instead, they followed side paths or blazed a trail on their own.

It made movement much more difficult, and the Wanderer was well aware of the toll it would take on his travelling companions, whether or not he wanted them. He actively pushed limbs of trees and bushes to the side, carefully clearing snakes and the like out of the way; he made no fanfare about the actions, but it was clear that if he wasn't doing that he probably could have lost them with ease, especially with the way the ground began to rise and fall, some previous calamity leaving still turbulence in its wake. He seemed to be familiar with where they were, and soon enough he spoke:

"We should be arriving at the village soon. There, we will buy what we need to last through the night, and tomorrow we will arrive at Kyora."

They continued along the way, but something seemed... off. With the way Joachim had spoken about it, they would have arrived in minutes, but they there was no sign of that whatsoever... No sign of anything having been cut down recently, or disturbed at all. And, perhaps more disturbingly, there was no sound of village life at all... And it was this that brought Joachim to a stop.

Once more that creeping fear began to claw at the Wanderer, and his breath began to pick up. The silence was too much, too familiar, too horrifying-

And, without a word, he suddenly surged forward, disappearing into the brush without a trace.

Nia blinked in disbelief as the Wanderer just ditched them in the forest. She turned to the other women with a shrug, a bemused look on her face as she looked back towards the brush. Was this just another one of his shortcuts? TO be honest, Nia had not been too fond of how Joachim had gone out of his way to avoid the main road. Her legs hurt from walking (having been forced to lead her horse instead of ride it), and she felt grimy from all of the plants that had brushed against her hair and clothes. She looked at the brush with some trepidation and grumbled; she certainly wasn't just going to wait and hope that he came back.

"Well, no point in us staying here," she said to the other women as she moved to try and track down Joachim. "Let's go."

Let's go? In a sheer bit of disbelief, Remy couldn't really begin to parse the nonchalant way Nia reacted to the sudden 'ditch', as the militant would say. It looked like she didn't have a choice, though, as Kaishu had already begun to move after Joachim with a swift and quick step. Pain in the ass.

"What a couple'a freaks..." But Remy, with all her ability, could feel that something was different. Something that almost made her water at the mouth. With a nod to herself, she headed after Nia, hand on Dearg-due's hilt and prepared to draw if necessary.

In the meantime, Kaishu was hot on Joachim's tracks. If there was anyone who could keep up, it was her, but...

She had a sort of sinking feeling in her chest the further she went in tracking the Wanderer's footsteps.

They did not have very far to go. Though Joachim had charged into the thick of the forest, it seemed that they were merely yards from a clearing. Once they burst through, light once more freely shown from above as they stepped out onto a road. There, the Wanderer had come to a stop to their right, simply staring forwards with his back to them-

In front of him was a small, simple village, nothing special about it. Nearby, beyond the village, there was a sudden upheaval of earth that rose in the imitation of a mountain slope, though it cut off well before it could be called one. In a rough oval the clearing had been made all around the village, with another road coming out of the village towards the left, heading off into the forest once again.

There were no people in the streets, or in their homes. Instead, they hung on pikes, gutted through and impaled in lines on either side of the road, from outside the village well into the thick of it. The men, women, and children had not been killed recently; the smell and sight of rot made that clear enough, and though most of the bones had been picked clean by still circling scavengers up above, flies still swarmed all around in search for some morsel to savor. It was also abundantly clear that many of the bodies hadn't had the fortune of being impaled after death, and some even worse had also the misfortune of being lit aflame before expiring.

Joachim screamed.

Kaishu did not scream, though.

Rather, she stood there beside the Wanderer with her hooded eyes a bit wider now, hand resting on the hilt of the sword that hung from her back. As her expression returned, her fingers curled just a little tighter on that woven hilt. Muttering something in another tongue entirely, her foot slipped out to the side. Her bare toes prodded the other man's ankle before she stepped towards the village - a beckoning motion. Still, her hand didn't leave her sword.

As Remy emerged from the brush, having ran when she heard the scream, she arrived as Kaishu began making deeper down the path. "Kid - !" She had to cut herself off, though, as she saw the scene in front of her. Taking a single breath made her cover her mouth and nose, making a disgruntled noise beneath her breath. "Patrons above..."

She didn't follow after Kaishu. Instead, she had to touch a hand onto a tree and support herself a little, reaching into her jacket to pull a handkerchief out and push it over her in place of her hand, going closer to the Wanderer now. "What did this?"

"People with too much time on their hands, clearly," muttered Nia, a look of disgust on her face. Thanks to her days in the H'kelan military the woman couldn't claim to have the cleanest of hands, but she had never been the kind to put in the deranged effort to setup such pageantry. The thought of getting pleasure from such a thing was despicable—and with only ashes there wasn't much to put up for show anyway.

"Does this seem like something your man would do?" asked Nia, stepping closer to Joachim.

The Wanderer stood there stock still, silent after that cry of anguish. There was something new about him now, though; a tremble in the limbs, a shake so slight that it was nearly invisible, but the observant eye would see. With that, it was almost like the blood vessels beneath his skin were darkening, becoming visible just slightly. The expression on his face, meanwhile, was one of a cold, terrible anger, his eyes narrowed into a sharp glare that did not fit his sharp features, and seemed to alter them entirely.

"Yes... Undoubtedly, this is the work of him."

"To be precise, Lord Yaguar didn't do this!" Immediately, Joachim's hand snapped down, gripping his blade and prepared to draw. The voice came from forward, above, and to the side, and the Wanderer immediately zeroed his gaze on the person who had spoken; they had appeared, apparently, when all the gazes had been on the corpses, rather than the rest of the surroundings.

The appearance of the speaker probably wasn't what any of them were expecting. He was young, incredibly young; he had to have been in his early teens, no older. The boy was also quite clean, and calm with a sort-of smiling expression on his face, like something a servant would be practiced to wear. Dressed in blues, his hair was dark and cut just short enough that it didn't hang that far at all.

Something about the smile didn't seem to reach the eyes, even as they shut.

"No, Lord Yaguar didn't kill all of these people, and hang them up for any would-be travellers to see. He didn't light the fires, didn't drive them out of their homes; though he did give the order if I'm to be honest, and I believe to Lord Phantasm that probably means the same thing."

"Be on your guard." The coldness in Joachim's gaze had reached his voice. "If he is correct, this boy is the one who killed Yihira."

"Oh, you connected that together! You're perceptive, just like what Lord Yaguar has said!"

"Yhira?" Remy's hand was firm on the trigger of Dearg-due's hilt. Her gaze went to the Wanderer before over to the young boy, tilting her head back and forth. She was stifling a smile threatening to pop on her lips. A little kid causing all this discord. It was funny. Really funny. But Remy was fairly well-versed in foreign politics. She recognized a name like that. "A leader of Gurata... This punk took her out? Hard to believe."

While the others stood before Alexai, Kaishu watched the scene partially from over her shoulder, hooded eyes a bit more sharp, maintaining that level look. Standing further off gave her a little bit more breathing room, and thinking room. Slowly, the Princess's eyes grazed the village, flicking back and forth before back to Alexai. Certainly, he could have attacked by now. So why hadn't he? Her brain fixated on this for a moment before she uttered another word.

"If you're here to play a taunt," she spoke up towards the young man. "Then it's wasted. You already laid your blow. You're just kicking an angry animal, now."

Unlike the others, Nia did not appear as if she was ready to fight. Instead, she stood with her arms folded over her chest, a rather pensive look on her face as she studied the kid. He was hardly the age she had been when she had gone into training, certainly much too young to be butchering entire villages because he was ordered to do so. He hadn't done it alone, had he? If he had, then how? She bit her lip as the morbid curiosity racked her brain. In a way, it was almost impressive it that was truly the case. Sick, undoubtedly, wrong, certainly, but definitely nothing to scoff at—yet something was bothering her.

"So what's the point?" asked Nia, her voice deceptively light. "Surely your boss isn't just one of those people who wants to see the world burn, is he?"

"The point?" The boy's head tilted to the side some as he, very clearly, seemed to have to take a moment to think it out. Slowly, the tilt passed from one side to the other, before his head suddenly straightened as he shrugged, saying, "I don't know! But I can tell you that I'm not here to taunt about it, because this isn't something worth taunting about!"

Taking a single step forward, he dropped down to the ground, a fair bit of dust and ash rising up with the impact. Straightening, he brushed himself off before he seemed to remember where he was, quickly bowing as the imitation of a polite smile reappeared on his face. "Ah, where are my manners! My name is Alexai, and I am a disciple of Lord Yaguar. It's certainly a pleasure to meet you. I'm here because my master has an invitation to extend; it seems like fate wanted to have Lord Yaguar and Lord Phantasm meet once again today, considering you both happen to be here! If you would be so kind as to follow me..."

The boy turned, and only briefly looked over his shoulder to check to see if he was being followed; he didn't seem to have any concern exposing his back to them. The Wanderer was indeed following after him as well, and so he quickly began to lead them through the village. The sight all the way through was the same sort of grim that they had witnessed at the beginning, and they only met living people on the other side, where the earth suddenly rose.

Those they met certainly weren't villagers, having more of the bearing of bandits than anything else. However, they did not share in the gruff, dirty inconsistency that bandits seemed to share, with mix and matched clothes and armor; no, the dark cloth and leather armor, though rough in some places, could only have been described as a uniform. And these men and women, though they stood and sneered like bandits, were oddly composed as well; they stood and sat on either side of the street, loosely organized into lines to watch as the "guests" passed by, towards the sudden opening in the rock up ahead.

There were also more than enough, it seemed, to constitute some small part of a larger army.

"Where are you taking us?" The Wanderer finally spoke as they reached the opening in stone, which had clearly been artificially widened and smoothed out, a wooden gate in place that was swung open by some of the waiting ruffians (or soldiers?) that stood nearby as they approached. Smiling still, Alexai looked back to speak, but he didn't stop.

"Oh, have you never actually partaken of the tourist sight here? You are in for quite a treat then, Lord Phantasm!"

Inside, the path was well lit by torches and slowly but surely angled downward, the carved path taking advantage of a natural slope. Down, down they went, and briefly the tunnel seemed to narrow every slightly...

And then, suddenly, it ended, and they stood in a massive expanse. Raised torches set upon the ground were the only source of light, and they only stretched so far forwards as, suddenly, the stone gave way to water. The underground pool was massive, stretching deeper and deeper into the cavern, and the water was amazingly clear, the light allowing vision to the very bottom (if it could stretch that far). And while the sight of the water was beautiful enough on its own, there was something else that made the cavern even more of a wonder:

The only stone that was in the cavern was the shore that the tunnel emerged out on. Everything else, walls, ceiling, and the bottom of the pool alike, was crystal. Crystal of massive, beautiful shapes and colors, sparkling with the light and even seeming to glow. Red here, blue there, and every color in between, the colored light bounced around the cavern, painting everything with an otherworldly hue.

Despite the size of the cavern, within there were only two people waiting for them. One was a very beautiful woman, tall and graceful, with her brown hair gently pulled back into a bun and a soft yellow dress that left her shoulders bare. There was a beauty mark next to her mouth, and there was a sensuality that surrounded her, making her everything expect a plain woman.

And yet compared to the man she knelt beside on the mat she seemed entirely normal, for he was truly unique. His golden-orange eyes blazed with an intense stare, one that devoured every detail of the world around him. He sat cross-legged on the mat, with his back perfectly straight. In his hand was a thin smoking pipe, held out to the side slightly...

And he was utterly covered in metal, grey like steel and clean. It enclosed his arms and legs in long strips. Around his torso it curved, segmented so that he might move. His joints were covered with curved plates, also protecting him while allowing movement. His hands and feet were covered, dozens of pieces segmented over each end of a limb so that he could flex and curl to his desire. And upon his face many specifically shaped plates were attached, set so that they could move, so that he could express himself, such as the smile in that moment, and very clearly talk:

"Ah, Joachim, my old friend. It's been awhile."

Strangely pale lips could be seen, along with almost see-through eyelids, but no other flesh was exposed, and there was a black robe around his lower half. His voice was calm, pleasant to the ear; in contrast, the coldness of Joachim's almost seemed cruel.

"Yaguar."

"Oh, please, Shisor, I insist. We've been through too much to not use first names."

"And yet you are willing to throw it all away."

"Come now, my friend; those are cold words to use for our first meeting in... Over ten years now."

"Well, isn't this nice, you boys reuniting like this," chipped in Nia, her eyes looking over the cavern as her hand propped itself underneath her chin as if she was appraising a painting. She batted a lash and fixed her narrowed eyes on Yaguar, wondering how long the tin man would survive in that armor of his before she could bake him alive. Her look softened as it shifted over to the woman, yet her nose wrinkled ever-so-slightly in a moment of envy at the woman's effortless beauty. "A really nice place you have here; makes you almost forget about all the dead people up above."

"Oh," she said, drawing in a sharp breath of air and placing an apologetic hand on her chest. "Sorry, should I not be bringing that up? If it's any consolation, I don't really mind. Just, there's not much sport in crucifying villages these days, is there? It all just seems in poor taste, but, uh, ignore me. Make sure you boys play nice."

"Hey, you know, I'd be pretty pissed, too..." Remy reached up, scratching her inner ear with her pinky. "... If my decade-old rival started kicking up a fuss. Killed a country official, massacred an entire village. If anything, I encourage a little... feisty play. Maybe even a death battle to the end. Nice and bloody. It's only fair." She shrugged, smiling crookedly at Nia before looking back at the man made of metal.

The scion even went so far as to nudge Kaishu, whom passed her a fierce scowl that made even Remy recoil back a little. Until then, the younger girl hadn't been paying attention to Nia or Remy's jeers, instead opting to survey the cavern, the woman, and Yaguar himself. When her eyes once more settled on the man before them, her gaze remained narrowed, but curious - the eyes of a child wondering how mangled someone would have to be to encase themselves in steel. Regardless - she spoke not, stepping up closer to the Wanderer rather than keeping back with the other two.

Yaguar let out a laugh; proud, and yet not manical. Completely sane, and that was what was terrifying. "I like those you brought along with you, Joachim. Feisty and unpredictable, between them all. They compliment you well; Tucela has the sharp tongue, and Bellamy the bloodlust to go with it that you've seemed to have lost. And, of course, it seems like Yarinaosu is prepared to listen, unlike you."

Making no note about how Yaguar already knew all of their names, Joachim tilted his head up some. "Why did you take this village, Yaguar? Your objective is the whole of the East, perhaps the world, not one peaceful, backwater village. There was no need to slaughter them."

"Still with the last name? Very well then. What if, Raizen, the water is just why I took it for myself?"

"What?" It came out as a snarl. "Mere water?"

"Not any mere water. Pure and clean water, what they would have contaminated without a care. Springs like these are rare in this part of the world, and they would have used this precious water for baths; simple baths. To wash dirt and sweat off. It's such a waste... But, you see, I need it. I haven't forgotten the day that the Void Lord suddenly attacked me, taking me by surprise and casting me into the Void itself..."

Slowly, his hand came up, to the metal on his face. "And my body hasn't forgotten it either." His fingertips lightly pressed, and then the plates unfolded to reveal what was beneath.

The Wanderer tensed, but neither Alexai nor the woman blinked.

The skin beneath the metal looked sick, and was so thinly layered that muscle and bone beneath could be seen, as they shifted about as he talked and breathed. Throughout his face were many black cracks that glowed with a purple light with each beat of his heart, and the skin directly around these areas were too dark as well, falling away, almost seeming to be rotted.

"Such pure water is perfect to ease a Void tainted body, filled with Void tainted blood. No amount of medicine will cure me, the best I can do is ease it... So I come here, four times a year, to cleanse myself of the relentless cold that tries so hard to rob me of my fire, and yet that cold is not nearly strong enough to finish the job."

"Ohhh, nasty!" Remy leaned forward, hand on her hip and the other still on Dearg-due's hilt. "Gross, gross! Wow! Now that's what I call ugly! Think I'd kill myself if my face ever got blasted that hard. Kudos for taking it in such a swift stride."

With a grimace, Kaishu passed a look at Remy before the look faded back into neutrality again. Looking towards Yaguar, she began stepping forward. Gingerly, she removed one of the gloves she wore, crouching down before the man. Glancing beyween Alexai and the other woman, she once more looked back forward before reaching out.

"Hey! Yarinaosu, what the fu -"

"Shut up." Kaishu's fingers pressed to the side of his face, gently brushing over the decayed, tainted flesh. "... Interesting." It made her wonder what the Abyss felt like for someone who couldn't simply enter it. She retracted her hand, but didn't stand. "Pardon my intrusion. I've only seen this one other time. Self-inflicted."

"I wonder what was going through their mind then." Yaguar hadn't flinched at Kaishu's touch, simply waiting patiently as she explored her curiosity to the fullest. "Truly painful, I must say. But many things in life are, aren't they?"

The Wanderer had run out of patience at that point, and said, "And so now you wish to... what? Take out some perverted revenge on the world? Or is your plan greater than that?"

"You're on the right track, my friend. At the moment, I have no desire to take revenge on the one who gave me this... condition."

Slowly, Yaguar brought one hand up, and, placing his other hand on the wrist, flexed his fingers; metal slid over metal with a slight hiss. He then brought his hand up farther, and brushing Kaishu's hand aside brough the face-plates closed once again. "In fact, I thank Kuraihi for them. His attack taught me many, many lessons. Trust, and be betrayed. Relax your guard, and be killed. Kill before you are killed."

His hand went out slightly, and immediately the woman moved in, getting much closer as she looked to him. "And, as a side note.... Lovers will come to a real warrior no matter what they like. That's part of what makes it so bearable, Second Commander Bellamy." There was no small amount of humor in his voice.

Transfixed by the metal moving back into place, Kaishu remained stationary, crouched there as she listened and watched. As Yaguar had said, she came prepared to do so. She could feel Remy's anxiety through the bond they were forced to share the longer she lingered, so she continued to do so even as the Wanderer and Shisor spoke. Just the same, even when Remy scoffed and drew forward to grab her shoulder, she was unmoving.

"Creepy as hell, you know... How you know all our names. Titles. Whatever. Makes me wonder just how much you know and it makes me wanna..." Shaking her head, the Commander yanked on Kaishu, though the girl only shifted her balance to remain in place. This seemed to enrage the makeshift warden, but the change could only really be felt through the two of them... and the way she looked so fiercely down at Kaishu.

Removing her hand, she instead slipped it into her coat, pulling a silver flask from it. Popping the cap back onto its hinge, she took a deep swig, pulling away and licking her lips. Finally, that crooked smile of hers returned to her face. "Shucks, nevermind. That's not very kid-friendly of me to - "

"Kill or be killed," Kaishu finally said, arms resting loose, gentle over her knees. "I think that's fair. But I don't really get it - what's the point? Is this world really worth all this trouble? You could go on living and healing, but you're putting in all this effort to kick up a fuss. Not to say it isn't justified, but - urya, if you do someday go up against Him, do you really think you'll win?"

Falling back off her heels, she sat down, one leg bent and the other tucked beneath it, foot hooked behind her ankle. The motion only made Remy bristle more, and grow more impatient with her.

"You should know by now, as well as I, the state the West is in. All because of Him."

A chuckle left Yaguar, and Joachim slowly tensed even more. Slowly, the Devil's Fire closed his eyes, and gave an almost forlorn sigh before he reopened them. "Him, the Phantasm, myself, we all lived through the God King War. It's hard for people who didn't live through that to understand. The God Kings, the Rebellion, the East, the God King War was the first era of tulmult in a hundred years, erupting to return to this new... 'balance' that the Phantasm enjoys so openly. God Kings, Gifted, mortals, we all carried our banners, our 'Gifts' through that endless killing. A person forged in such an age must be one of unquenchable ambition, wouldn't you agree?"

Slowly, the pipe began to spin between his fingers. "But, by the time my wounds healed... There were new governments in the West. In the East, the old Kings have died, replaced by those who love the false peace. Governments that are so blind that they didn't even know a half dead dog existed in the first place, never mind can kill him. Nations of weaklings. I can't leave the world to such a fate, not after so hard I worked... SO!"

Suddenly, his fist clenched, and the smell of wood and tobacco burning filled the air; the whole of the pipe was lit with flame, and crumbled to ash in a moment. "If the God King War is over, then I'll simply start another, and this time I will gain control. Then will I make the East stronger, to clash with that growing Abyss in the West! That is the 'Gift' I bring to the East, the same one I tried so hard to bring to the West."

"Another God King war? Are you fucking kidding me?" Remy tucked her flask away, flicking her gaze to Kaishu before back to Yaguar. "That's insane. I'm all for 'eye for an eye', and 'vengeance' and hedonist delusions, but this is just... wrong. You'll just be disrupting a balance hundreds of people died for. You think people would just roll over and let that happen? Sure as shit won't be us."

Concern. But not fear. Flexing her hand, Kaishu examined her wrist, before pulling her glove back onto that hand. Tapping a finger on the plate of armor on her knee, she mostly ignored Remy speaking. She remembered certain phantasms of things her mother told her about that war. Burning memories with edges all in cinders.

"You have charisma, but so does He. Just not in the same way. What will the point be if your clash ends you and the world with it? Sure, you make the East strong... but what if you lose? You'll need allies on the same level as your Gifted, maybe even gods."

"Kid, quit humoring this nutjob." Remy tapped her fingers on her arm anxiously, staring down at the younger girl from above. "We ain't here for twenty-questions."

"I have more than twenty." Replied the prodigy, glancing up at Remy coldly before looking back at Yaguar.

"You know surprisingly little if you think a group of gods would fell the Void Lord." Yaguar laughed, reaching up to run his fingers over the metal next to his mouth. "I was there with him as we both killed them, and I have been on the receiving end of his wrath. And yet your concern does not go unnoticed, child; I have spent years planning and training to be able to do what is necessary. I am simply ready. And if I lose, I was only that strong to begin with."

Yaguar simply smirked, but then finally Joachim spoke.

"... And yet, despite all of what you say, it is not you who suffers for your so-called 'Gift.' The ones who bleed and die..." The glare on his face was soft, and yet intense. "... Are those who live peacefully in this new age. Like the village up above. Like everyone who wants to move on from the horrors of the war."

"Only the strongest survive in this world, Raizen But I honestly don't expect you to understand. You were always much too soft, in everything you did. No matter how much you killed, you always remained soft at the foundations, ready to crumble."

Slowly, Joachim stepped forwards, saying, "And yet he insists all the same that no one else may be allowed to bleed for your personal 'right,' Shisor Yaguar. And he will stand in your way until the day he dies."

For a moment after the Wanderer spoke, his companions remained silent. Remy with a silent bewilderment and Kaishu with thoughtfulness, Nia in her own thoughts. Slowly, Kaishu began to stand, hand on her knee as she rose. Fixing her cloak, she soon went to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "You have me intrigued, but I won't waste anymore of your time. Thanks for the insight."

Breathing out, somewhat relieved, Remy shook her head. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... this has really been swell. A real fucking tea party. Kid, I swear..."

Rolling her eyes, Kaishu bowed her head politely before stepping back into place beside Remy (who gave her a good flick to the side of the head before yanking on her ear) and behind the Wanderer.

Yaguar smiled. "I have no objection to fighting you Raizen, in fact I look forward to it, but when it happens, I'd rather it be in Kyora." Joachim did not relax even slightly. The Devil's Fire sighed. "No...? Very well then if you insist on fighting..." With a speed that couldn't be seen by the normal eye Yaguar's hand snapped out, grabbing the blade next to him before throwing it directly at Alexai, who caught it with a startled face. Yaguar's hand, meanwhile, went down to lightly press against the stone.

It began slowly at first, and then the rumble began to rapidly pick up. Even as the cavern quivered around them all Yaguar stood, his hand pulling the woman up with him in the process. Behind him, across the water, cracks began to appear in the crystals, from the water line to the height of the ceiling over the far half of the space... And then along those cracks the crystals shattered, light suddenly streaming through as the outside world suddenly intruded upon this subterranean space. Furthermore, a bridge rose from the water behind him, created of smooth, clearly carved stone and raised by some sort of magic or mechanism.

"I'll wait for you in Kyora, Raizen, so come when you're the Phantasm proper again. Alexai, play with him for a little in my stead."

"Oh, may I? And with the Collector as well?"

"Yes, yes. In return for his eagerness, show him why he should be serious. And if you do happen to kill him, then you can bring his soul along with you, so that I'll be able to show him even after death why I'm right."

And, as Yaguar and his companion made their way across the bridge towards the newly made exit, Alexai began to step forwards, giving a light hum to himself even as he looked towards Joachim.

"Well then, Lord Phantasm, shall we? I must say, this is truly a honor."

Slowly, Remy released Kaishu's arm where they stood, the two of them exchanging a look before returning their collective gazes to the outside. Wincing against the sudden burst of evening sunlight, the Commander lifted her arm to cover her eyes. "Rat bastard..."

Kaishu shook her head, brushing leftover crystal from her shoulders before stooping down to collect a larger fragment. Watching the light reflect over it, she tucked it back into the satchel hiding beneath her cape and straightened up. Looking from Alexai, to the Wanderer, her gaze was a little tenser.

"Are you going to be alright?" She asked. It was clear to her what Alexai was ordered to do. His focus would be on the Wanderer, not them, and she wasn't one to interrupt a duel. Neither was Remy, by the way she looked at the Wanderer, as if reflecting Kaishu's own question.

"He is not certain." The Wanderer spoke simply, honestly, the idea of possible defeat seeming to do little to daunt him. "However, there is still something he must do at this moment, and he will see it done no matter what." Slowly, the Wanderer stepped forwards, moving so that he would stand across from Alexai. The two slowly rotated so that they stood parallel to the group... And for a moment, it was just like that. No movement whatsoever.

"... I'm sorry, but if we don't hurry this up, I won't be able to catch up to Lord Yaguar easily."

With that, the Wanderer reached down to hold his blade a little higher, hand held forward, prepared to strike.

"Ooooh, of course.... Then I too will do the same!" With that, Alexai took a very similar stance, though his hand was held lower. Once again, there was silence....

And then they both suddenly rushed forwards, blades drawn with the speed of lightning, swung-

And then there was a nasty crack.

Joachim's eyes widened as the two took steps past each other. There was no blood drawn, and yet he was more shocked at the broken half of his blade as it fell behind him, stabbing deeply into the ground. He came to a stop, slowly turning to look back to it...

And Alexai, meanwhile, simply smiled. "Match over, don't you think?"

The tension in the Wanderer's shoulders relaxed slightly, as he nodded. "Yes. It is a draw."

"Hm-? Oh!" With that, Alexai saw how the blade that he was using was cracked from tip to base, absolutely beyond repair. However, even as he looked a blue-white light began to leak from the cracks, glowing brighter and brighter as a high pitched whine filled the air, and then with a yell of alarm Alexai flung the blade away, deeper into the cavern.

It was just in time, as moments later the sword exploded. As the fragments blasted in all directions, dissolving away from the heat of it all, that blue-white energy collected, and then surged upwards. As it reached the roof of the cavern it spread outwards, curling along the curve of the space even as vaguely humanoid shapes began to form as they fell... and then they disappeared, silence falling before Alexai spoke again.

"Amazing... And you did this with a sword that broke, too! Oh well, it had served its purpose." Both of his hands went out as he shrugged with a sigh beginning to walk towards the exit- the proper one, as the bridge had already begun to lower. "There's no winner or loser today, I suppose! I'll be on my way for now, but I look forward to meeting you again. By then though, please have a new blade."

And then he was gone, but Joachim didn't say anything, simply staring towards the broken half of the blade after his gaze had fallen from watching the shapes.

The tension in the cavern was one that was uncomfortable, laced with a little bit of a forlorn air. With parted lips, Remy watched the figures dissipate, while Kaishu was focused on the broken half of the blade the entire time. The look on Remy's face was unreadable, something between a daze and a... hunger. Covering her mouth, she ran her hand down it and guzzled from her flask. Passing by Kaishu and going to stare down at the blade beside Joachim, she removed a handkerchief from her pocket.

Very carefully, she bent down to grab the fragmented half of the steel, looking over its scratched, worn surface. Gingerly, she held it out to the Wanderer.

"Well... look on the bright side! You've got your limbs and you can get a new blade. One that's not as beat up, old... etcetera. This is a positive!"

"Bellamy." Kaishu scolded quietly, brows furrowed. She was gripping onto the hilt of her own blade, as though just the scene of the swords breaking had her on edge. Her eyes flicked to Joachim. "... What are you going to do next?"

For a few minutes longer, Joachim remained silent. His eyes had followed the blade even as Remy picked it up and held it out to him, but he still didn't say anything, nor did he reach for it. Eventually, his eyes slowly went up to Remy's... and gently, he smiled.

"Nothing has changed. He will continue to head on to Kyora like he was. He is not... entirely defenseless now, to be honest." He carefully reached forwards and took the blade, before his other hand reached down to the larger bag that he had picked up in the village before; as he rummaged around there was a slight jingle of metal lightly tapping against metal, before he drew out a long piece of cloth. Wrapping the separated half of his blade securely, he placed it into the bag before sheathing the other half at his side, as if it wasn't broken at all.

"He does not have the time to falter on his path now, and so he will walk on. If you are to separate from him, though, now is the time."

Blinking slowly, Kaishu tilted her head. For a moment, she was silent, but lifted her head and gave Remy a look. The two once more looked at him.

"No. We'll stay with you." Kaishu said, nodding with certainty.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! I'm on this train ride to Hell to see Cyril, remember? And I guess kicking a little ass won't hurt, either." Remy grinned, clapping Joachim on the back roughly. "You're stuck with us!"

The Wanderer staggered forwards slightly, letting out an audible, "Ooof!" Reaching up to gently rub where he had been hit, he gave a slight sigh. "Very well then, if you insist."

[Atrophy]

Heading for a Shortcut

Christopher had no plans to take the roads on the trek to Kyora. With the Wanderer having left well ahead of them, he knew that there was no way they could catch up with the man on the road; chasing directly after someone who could keep up with a horse easily on foot was a waste of time. So, rather than taking the roads, he would take his group straight through the fields and hills, beyond into the forests, before they finally emerged at Kyora itself.

That was his original plan, anyway. Drosil's suggestion of a "shortcut" appealed to him even more, but it did little to change up his initial plan. Instead, it just gave them a specific point to head for, rather than just the city of Kyora itself. By Christopher's guess, considering their group, it would take them two days to reach the shortcut, with the time lost easily being cut off from an otherwise three or four day journey. With plenty of supplies in mind, the group departed the Capitol, Christopher only leaving a message behind for the King as an afterthought.

The first day of their journey was entirely uneventful, there being not much to see besides those fields and rolling hills that they passed through. They rested for the night under clear skies, and woke up to the same... except for one spot, where one particularly dark cloud had gathered, straight ahead in their path. Christopher, ever the wise one, had just a couple words to say:

"Well, shit."

Having already dedicated themselves to their current course, the group went straight on. For awhile, the cloud remained as it was, not seeming to get any bigger (or closer, for that matter), and it certainly didn't seem to be drifting in any direction with the wind either. However, that cloud would be the source of all their problems, and their delays.

As they approached the forest line, that black cloud suddenly billowed outward, and the sky became overcast. It happened so quickly that Christopher barely had any time to swear before it went dark over ahead, and whatever that first syllable he uttered was lost beneath the sudden roar of thunder as lightning tore into existence all around them. The strikes blasted all around them, almost seeming to fence them in on either side; with no cover behind them in the form of the field they had just left, Christopher chose to keep something tall nearby to draw away the strikes. He chose the forest.

The storm was blinding, the deluge so heavy that it was almost like they were swimming rather than running. Dry ground suddenly became mud beneath them, and even with the water all around fires suddenly erupted as wood was struck by electricity, heat billowing only to sputter out beneath the wind and rain. Faster Christopher pushed himself, but despite the increase of pace it still wasn't fast enough. The strikes seemed to pick up in pace, and though the idea of a lightning bolt being strong or weak was ridiculous in his mind, the newer ones seemed to be stronger. Looking for something, anything, they soon came across a boulder that, having been shattered from the ground long ago, had been worn down from the side (perhaps by the weather, animals, or something else entirely) to create a sort of natural outcropping. It was the best sheller that they could use, barely big enough for the group all together...

But nearby, something already sat right on the outside of the edge protected by the rock. Simply sitting there in the rain, it was not a person; it was simply a suit of armor, black and white, with long tattered cloth hanging here and there and its face open to reveal that there was nothing within. Even while sitting there, it was clear that it was taller than any of them (though if Shadar had been the one out, it would have been just under his height).

With it was a large greatsword, the point within the ground and the top resting against its torso and shoulder.

Despite how it gave Christopher's stomach a paranoid twist, he realized they didn't have a choice.

"Fuck it, here we go- get under, get a fire going if you can!" They huddled together beneath that rock, even as the rain continued to pelt down around them. They, unfortunately, did not have the resources for a fire-

But nature suddenly provided as a strike of lightning suddenly crashed down into the armor. It did not so much as twitch as the electricity crackled over it, before the energy suddenly jumped to the nearest tree, lighting it aflame; Christopher, without even the slightest bit of hesitation, left the shelter to rip off the lowest burning bough to bring back to the group.

Now if the travel party had happened at any other point Alice would have pointed out how traveling off the given route was a bad idea but she didn’t feel up to mentioning that-or just about anything else. As more and more members joined this group Alice kept to herself and kept her guns close.

Almost immediately after setting out there was something like a stone in her stomach. It caused her to be constantly looking over her shoulder and her head swinging on a swivel. Something whispered in the back of her mind that she was being paranoid and she believed it until the point Christopher had to open his mouth. She couldn’t blame him for speaking everyone’s thoughts on the weather on the horizon though.

The more and more they traveled the heavier that stone in Alice’s stomach got until it was suddenly dark and the storm was upon them; thunder ripping through the air causing Alice to cover her ears with her hands and close her eyes. Despite working with guns Alice was not one for loud noises and this sent her into an adrenaline rush. She forced herself to open her eyes and follow after Christopher towards the forest- struggling to keep her footing as the ground was turning to mud faster than she could take her steps.

The flames around them are what did it for Alice. She was seeing double for fractions of seconds on and off. First of the world around her and second in a long repressed memory of building burning and muffled screaming. Her foot caught on something as she fell forward. It took her a second to realize she was in a less than palatable position before she pushed herself off of the ground and focused on the person ahead of her’s back. ”GO GO, PLEASE JUST GO! DON’T FUCKING STOP!” It was unlikely anyone could hear her over the sound of the storm above.

Her ears were ringing from the sight of the odd armor atop the boulder- or perhaps it was from the thunder- but she followed regardless. She was under the overhang-stumbling slightly due to the mud caked onto her boots and legs- and made it a goal to get as far under it as possible. Alice pushed her back to the wall with heavy panting and wide eyes before slumping down. Her pack and weaponry was already heavy enough but the addition of water and mud made it feel so much heavier and she could feel it screaming in her adrenaline filled muscles.

Her hands were shaking as she struggled to shuck off her pack for the fire starter in there when the lightning strike hit the armor. She could feel the lingering shocks of the strike as she touched the metal case on her back-taking the more than static filled shock in her left arm. The sniper dropped the case and her weapons atop one another before turning and seeing Chris racing towards the flaming tree. ”GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKING LIGHTNING ROD!” Her heart was in her throat at the sight as she prayed a strike wouldn’t hit him directly.

When he made it under the overhang she felt her mouth get ahead of her, “What are you doing you idiot?! Why did you run back out there!? You could have died!” She kept a few steps from him as he did have a flaming branch in his hand.

”Could have, but didn’t.” His answer was simple, even as he brought the branch closer. They didn’t have much to make a fire with, but he was intent on doing what he could; he wasn’t going to start this trip only to freeze to death out in the middle of nowhere. And so, using what little stock of wood and tinder they had collected in advance of the storm, he was able to get a small fire going. It was better than nothing.

Alice clenched her jaw tightly closed as she surveyed over everyone else before going to work and aiding in building something of a fire while the storm kept up outside. ”Well at least we have fresh water.” She tried to calmly say as she put her water holder just outside the outcropping to catch the rain before turning back and digging through her soaked bag for the dried food she’d stashed away. She offered it to those around her, ”Want any? It’s bland but it’s something.” before returning to her position as far back as she could manage in the outcropping.

Three people half his age and only one veteran among them, that one with a damned limp. Nasir was silent for almost the entire trek. He had almost nothing to say to these pups and old tools. They did seem sharp enough though. They never complained or wanted to run back once the march had began, that was good at least. The strange feeling of being followed did seem to penetrate all of them though. A few times before the weather had turned, Nasir had considered extending his Cohesion to them, but, thought better of it. He would keep what he could do to himself until it really became needed. The last thing he wanted was these green-landers able to hear his thoughts and he wanted nothing to do with their likely weak minds.

His age did start to really show itself once the march drew on and the weather started to turn against them. If weather was what it was at all. Nasir could feel the malicious presence with them. This was no normal storm. His knees and feet ached as they moved through the quagmire of the woods. He hated this place. At least if they ended up in a terrible storm in the desert the ground was either hard enough to where it changed little or the sand would just let the water sink down. This was terrible. Muck and mud with every step. The Commander was astonished he did not lose his boots during the worst of the run. During that maelstrom they were blinded by dark and flashes of light in equal measure. He even found himself with the young woman in their party clinging to his robes and screaming something at him. He was not afraid, but, there was ample reason to hurry and seek shelter. Nasir had seen what happened to people when they were caught out in terrible storms and this was something even more powerful than the average natural horror.

The shelter they found was about as impressive as the land in general. A hollow in a rock to hide from the storm like rats. Not only was it insulting for someone of his station, but, it looked like a trap. No. With the strange suit of armor near them, it was almost certainly a trap. Then again, the young man who seemed to have been their leader did not seem like the type to avoid traps. A fool in mind and spirit it would seem. This idea was only solidified when the man ran out into the storm with those guantlets on his hands and grabbed a flaming branch and returned. Nasir was about to give the boy a talking to when the woman who had grabbed him early started in first. Good. She might be scared of storms but at least she had some sense.

Dark eyes peered at Christopher over his soaked veil. Nasir then spoke, "Who trained you? You disrespect your teachers and you have forgotten the face of your father." The Commander reached his left hand up and pulled down his veil, exposing his equally soaked beard. "You travel with two people with magical talent would could make a fire with ease and instead of asking or thinking you ran off into danger." maybe they were all green-landers, but, Nasir could not stand for unprofessional behavior in his companions. He wanted to reach out and slap the child in the face. However, he was not his Commander nor his teacher. He would slap him with his words instead. As the other settled down, Nasir stepped closer to the young man, eyes hard and serious. "If you had been injured, one of would have to go out and get you, perhaps getting injured ourselves. Are you stupid or just so poorly trained that you do not understand how to work in a team?" the accented hisses of Nasir's voice was audible over the storm just barely. He was not going to raise his voice to this child. He needed a lesson, not an argument.

The Commander reached back and grabbed his water skin and brought the top his mouth, taking a long drink, eyes still locked on Christopher. They would be traveling far yet and Nasir knew this little storm would be only the beginning of their problems. He needed all of them to start acting like the soldiers they were supposed to be. Combat was planning and execution. Brash actions would only take them so far, and all too often, it would only take you into an early grave.

Cold, gray eyes fell on the Commander as he moved towards Christopher, and a soft groan escaped from between bitten lips as the older man began to (justifiably) chide the brash lad. Joy had been quite content with shivering miserably against the wall of their shoddy shelter—it wasn’t the worst place she had rested in, that was for sure—and keeping an ever watchful eye on the bizarre suit of armor while they waited out the storm. Now those wonderful plans were ruined, and all because the H’kelan didn’t know what kind of shitstorm he was stirring up. The woman was cold, wet, her body hurt, and now she was about to have a headache unless she intervened. She put a gloved hand on the ground and slowly pushed herself up, grimacing at the sound of her joints popping. Joy made a mental note to never let anyone follow a shortcut ever again as she stepped over to the two men.

And then she stopped. The boy’s problem was that he didn’t understand the basics of consequences, a hard lesson to learn when one was practically unkillable. The Paladin had failed to teach him such, and it would do nobody any good if she coddled him too. So she waited, placing one hand on her hip as the other wiped mud from her pant leg. Maybe Christopher had actually listened back at the castle and had taken the lesson about not getting provoked to heart. She fully doubted it, of course, but perhaps the boy would surprise her.

Christopher's gaze went to Nasir, and it was filled with just as much venom as the Commander held towards him. Even with the bough held down to properly start the fire, he began to speak. "Hi, nice to meet you too, my name is Christopher. Since you obviously don't know, I happen to be Divineborn, so if I had been hit by a lightning strike you could have left my ass out there and I would have woken up eventually. I have no idea who my father is, if I have one, so I guess you're right when it comes to that? I have no idea how the fuck that was supposed to be anything but a garbage insult, though. I'm aware that magic is available, but I also happen to know that it requires resources and might not be as easy at the moment as you make it out to be, just from what I've heard through the grapevine. And that's where my teacher comes into this, I guess- the fact that I am, oh, I don't know, the only person who could take a lightning strike to the face, I went and did what I could. I don't give a damn that it could have been done easier, especially since, unless fucking Alice or Vesta are the Divinesdamned Grand Wizard now, you exactly haven't been forthcoming with what you can do. Who the fuck are you, again?"

Joy cocked an eyebrow. Had the boy even taken a chance to breath? Still, she was rather surprised that he had actually attempted an explanation instead of just swearing up a storm as was the usual case. A bit long-winded, perhaps, and certainly not very eloquent, but it could've been much worse. Her shoulders relaxed. It wasn't exactly what she had hoped for, but she was glad she hadn't interjected. Who knows, maybe Christopher was actually lea—

Suddenly, Christopher tossed the branch up, using his newly freed hand to snap his fingers, before he caught the wood once again and held it back down. "Wait, that's right. I don't give a damn, and I don't care that you're following along. That means I don't give two shits whether or not you leave. So unless you've got something I actually care about hearing, old man, shut the fuck up and do something rather than just berating me."

—Never mind. Joy hung her head, her fingers gripping the bridge of her nose as her head rocked back and forth in disapproval. She didn't know the Commander very well, or at all, but she was certain that he didn't seem like the kind of man that turned the other cheek. He had the same vibe about him that the Direwolf did, a vibe that she wouldn't be surprised to find out that she also radiated. It was that air of someone that had been worn down throughout the years by countless trials, yet instead of crumbling into dust they just grow tougher and harder. It was smart not to piss off people like that; assholes always seemed to live longer. She stepped forward, wondering how she had become the designated peacekeeper.

"Christopher, need I remind you what happened last time you angered an old man?" she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "And this one happens to serve as a representative for his Queen of a country where, for once, we might actually have a lasting peace with. I rather you not sour the relations between our two lands because he happened to call a spade a spade."

"Even if he was a prick about it," she said, folding her and turning her glare to Nasir. "Commander, may I remind you that we are no longer in H'kela nor are we H'kelan soldiers, so I will not be okay with you talking to any of us as if we are idiots. Feel free to share your opinions, but remember that they are just that. However, as the kid's new teacher, let me offer my apology. Christopher had a very religious upbringing," she said, turning her head back to the boy, "so he had no chance to learn any common sense."

"Now, I don't know about the rest of you," she said, heading back to her spot on the ground, "but I am very excited to sit here in quiet contemplation while listening to the rain, and I will ask nicely that there be no more interruptions."

"Yeah, yeah." The explosion having passed, Christopher's voice seemed almost... muted, in a sense. In stark contrast it was in that moment the fire suddenly flared upwards, having finally caught properly, and the young man stepped back with the branch. Briefly, he smacked it against the ground a few times to weaken the kindling flame, before stomping it out fully; and then he suddenly flung it back out, into the rain and away from the party. "The difference this time is I don't care enough to throw a punch right now. If I'm all it takes to sour shit, though, then things weren't going to last in the first place."

Down he went then, settling down next to the fire, stretching his hand out towards it. For him, it seemed like the moment had passed entirely; there was no tension in his shoulders, and he didn't even look towards Vesta or the Commander. He just seemed... tired, as he stared into the fire.

As the Christopher shouted at Nasir and Vesta chastised him, Drosil was busy near the back of the cave atop of Sir Mauls, muttering to himself as he gestured faintly in the air in front of him. The language that flowed forth from him was soft as a gentle breeze, thrumming with a slight tinge of power, each syllable alighting the pattern that he was tracing in front of him, an intricate array of sigils and and magic formulae that wound ever tighter and tighter into themselves, creating a seemingly infinite spiral of faint magical energy. This was an exercise that Drosil had often been forced to repeat over and over again during his early days in the academy, meant to help the newly initiated draw out their latent magical ability and shape it. The goal was to achieve a solid form and potency to the magic, and while he clearly had form for it, the potency was very much lacking. If he'd been at his previous high, the light from the runic overlay would've been enough to act as illumination for them in this damp overhang. As it was currently, it was barely as luminescent as a firefly's bottom.

The mage had been taking to the queen's advice with a zeal that was near all-consuming, hoping to draw out anything that remind within him to the fore to help in his secondary task of studying his tie with the Shadow Spirit he had summoned, try see if he could find any fault in his seal that would cause his current state of deterioration. Unfortunately, this task was being met with little luck, so he had little better to do than meditate and try to rebuild his magical ability from the ground up. Still, he couldn't help but find Christopher's attack on Nasir to be a bit much, and couldn't help but comment on it, if only a tad.

"You may be remarkably hard to kill, Christopher, but Nasir is right in advising caution. There are plenty of fates worse than death that you could run into, especially if your healing ability were to suddenly leave you or become unable to catch up to you before death claims you. A lightning bolt carries enough energy to completely shut down and destroy the brain, among other things. Do you really want to test out if you're ability is able to let you comeback from being fried both inside and out?"

From beneath Drosil, Sir Mauls clicked and clacked quietly, a majority of it's attention focused on the large suit of armor that rested nearby. Like most of the others, the Deathcrawler didn't trust the strange fixture, it's presence causing it to shift uncomfortably in place. Adjusting itself slightly, the creature found itself positioned closer to Alice, a few of it's legs stabbing into the ground near where she sat. Noticing this proximity, he rose his head and turned to look at the gunner, head tilted slightly as it examined her, seeming to evaluate something behind those cold black eyes before deciding to return his attention back to the suit of armor.

"Noted, Drosil. With that said, I know I wouldn't have been the first person to be struck by lightning, and while I'm not certain it could put the nail in the coffin I sure as hell know I don't want to freeze my ass off here the entire night."

Though it seemed clear that Christopher was attempting to wrap a bow on that response then and there, within him that venom coiled and hissed. Drosil, of all people, preaching caution? And it seemed the mage had missed the fact that it was partially for his sake that Christopher had fetched fire rather than relying on magic, even as the Jasian struggled to make something only slightly glow. And that venomous part wanted to lunge and bite in, to let the mage know just how things stood, and to retaliate for a betrayal, whether it might have been intentional or not. The rational side of Christopher, so weakened as it already was, was struggling not to break, and in that moment Christopher opened his mouth to continue, closed it, opened it once again and then froze, caught halfway between speaking and not-

Whether or not Christopher would actually say anything would be a question that lost its chance for an answer, as someone else spoke ahead. The voice was new, and came from behind Christopher:

"Enough."

Loud but not a yell, the voice echoed with power. Deep, there was something undeniably masculine about it, but to qualify it as human was an impossibility thanks to the reverberations of the syllables and the way it seemed to block out even thought. Struck utterly dumb in confusion, Christopher's gaze went over his shoulder with his jaw utterly slack to try and figure out who had spoken-

He barely snapped out of his stunned state as the suit of armor suddenly lunged upwards to stand, and with that same movement drew the greatsword from the ground; with a single hand it swung the blade down, Christopher yelling as he dove to the side, scrabbling across the ground to avoid the sharp edge. Instead of hitting flesh it struck wood and earth, and the ground beneath them quaked as the fire splintered and was utterly destroyed, a deep split crumbling beneath it.

"If I wanted to listen to asses squabble, I would have stopped at a farm."

Struggling to his feet, Christopher managed to get out a, "What the fuck-"

And then the left arm crashed against his ribs in a heavy blow, silencing him after the sharp exhale and taking him off his feet with ease, sending the boy tumbling out into the rain and mud without the slightest hint of grace.

"You especially."

Alice kept her mouth shut as she watched everything unfold in front of her. Alot of things that were said were uncalled for-even if what Chris did WAS stupid. She felt a weary sneer pointed towards Nasir before glancing over Joy and sighing at Drosil.

She chewed on the dried out meat in her hand as she patted down her weapons and wrung out her now stringy hair. It was going to be hell to tame when it fully dried but she would get there when she got there.

The sniper remained very still as Sir came and curled some what close to her. She had always been weary of the giant being as she was not a fan, by even the slightest of imagination, of bugs. However, Sir Mauls had clearly shown he was a good being over and over and Stark seemed to have taken a liking to him shortly after meeting him so maybe he wasn't to-

Her head snapped up and her hands were on her pistols as the deep voice rang out and sent chills down her spine. She put a bit of distance between herself and the armor out of instinct as the sword was brought down where Christopher had been standing before saying a snappy line and quite literally swatting the ever loving daylight out of Christopher into the grass and rain.

Alice saw red for a very quick instance as she all out sprinted in the direction Christopher went, "Chris! Shit, hey, talk to me!"

Christopher was slow to get up; after turning with his face towards the ground, it took him awhile to slowly uncurl as his world spun and he held himself up by his one hand. Briefly he retched, nearly vomiting, but the moment passed as he struggled to his feet, head throbbing as he almost staggered even while standing still.

"What the... actual living fuck..."

The armor did not speak again yet, instead slowly straightening. The tattered cloth that hung as a cape fluttered wildly in the heavy wind, thick with rain. The sword was slowly pulled from the ground, before suddenly swung out to the side in a viciously quick movement, air hissing as it was sliced and drops of water spiraling from the blade as, slowly, it began to turn, empty helmet staring in the direction of Christopher and Alice.

Alice couldn't really help herself when she got close to make sure he was actually alright-somewhere in the back of her mind she wished Lady Diane was present. She gave a short exhale of breath before her magic surged in her body and her back was to the hurt boy. She was all but snarling as she, all five feet over her, squared off towards the armor and pulled out both of her pistols with a steady hand despite the rain storm around then. "You disgusting fucking waste of space and time! I'm going to melt you down and use you as a shovel in the stables buried deep in the shit pile you belong in!!" The words coming out of the woman's mouth were pure stupidity but she wasn't going to let this thing hurt her friends. Not going to happen.

Without another moment her fingers pulled the trigger on either of her pistols-focused on the joint where his shoulder would be holding that massive sword before leaving the last two bullets towards the center of the helmet and one over the center of the chest piece.

Even as Alice shouted the armor stood still, silent, waiting. And yet though it was stationary, movement began to pass over it in the form of trails of electricity that sparked around the armor, jumping along with vibrant life. The intensity of the electricity began to pick up, more and more trails actively appearing around the armor-

When the shots came, the sky split open as lightning crashed down from above, hitting the armor directly. In all directions the leftover electricity flew, outwards and upwards, dancing along the ground and tearing along the rock; each bullet met its fate in that electricity, dissolving away in a wash of energy without ever reaching the armor. As the world continue to ring with the roar of thunder after the strike, the greatsword was lifted to be placed on the armor's shoulder.

"Impressive."

Sometime later Alice knew she should have paid more attention to the electricity ability was a big red flag for someone like her covered in large metal pieces but her fury was too high right at this moment as she dropped her first set of pistols and took the stupidly bold route and began to march towards the armor-drawing her short blade from the small of her back. "Fuck off you sentient chode." Alice snarled as she rotated the short blade in her hand before beginning to close the space between them.

The armor did not respond to either her next insult or her approach, simply continuing to stand as it was; perhaps that was due to the fact that she was only able to proceed for a few steps before Christopher's hand grabbed at her arm, holding her tightly and trying to pull her back, in order to stop her-

"Stop, stop, stop, there's no point-!"

"Dysfunctional."

"Leave it be, Alice! It- if it wanted to fight, I'd be dead right now!"

Alice didn't stop glaring where she assumed the eyes would be in the suit of armor with a deep frown. She kept glaring as Chris grabbed her-preventing her from going to stab the damn thing in the joints. "No fucking point my ass! This fucking twat bitch slapped the consciousness out of you because we were being loud in the middle of no where during some fucking storm where we were trying not to die from. Divineborn or not you're our leader in this fucking hell march and I'll be damned if I see you get fucking hurt again you fucking brat. Now let go of my arm so I can dismantle this taint muncher already!"

Christopher's arm shifted, going to release her wrist to instead loop around her arm, keeping her held back in an almost pitiful, half hold that only worked considering the fact that Alice was so intent on the armor, rather than the Christopher himself-

"Leave it, leave it, LEAVE IT dammit! I really don't want to piss this thing off!"

The uneasy feeling that he had upon first seeing the armor was returning and growing, and its silence made him thing that it was only a matter of time before it exploded.

As easy as she knew it could be to break out of Christopher's grasp her anger was subsiding as she was more worried about Christopher himself. "Shut up Chris." Alice wasn't letting her eyes off of the armor, ready to sprint if needed and drag Christopher with her, but she was relaxed in the hold he had her in-putting her short blade away. "Stop yelling already." She quietly stated as she broke her gaze at the armor and actually looked to Chris. "I thought you fucking died you idiot and don't you give me that I'm a Divineborn shit again or I will disarm you instead." Alice may have let a pun slip but this was one of the rare instances it was unintentional-especially given their situation. "What do you want to do then?" Green eyes looked back towards the armor again while waiting for his answer.

Slowly Christopher relaxed, letting her go and stepping away, his gaze focusing on the armor as well. Standing there quietly, it slowly lowered the blade, turning it and sticking the point in the ground-

"Considering the argument that was wasting breath is finally over, perhaps what your companion asked for before: quiet."

"What the fuck are you?"

"At the moment, a hunter."

Alice has to physically bite down on her bottom lip to keep from a quick lipped series of words from coming out of her mouth. However the fire that was in her throat petered out as she quickly caught onto this binge important and some what alarming, "A hunter of what exactly?"

"Focus on your own prey, and I'll focus on mine. Especially since your prey is a predator."

"Wait, what do you know-?!"

"I know that the Phantasm and Fire will finally be colliding soon. It's taken them long enough."

Alice kept very still, despite the sting of the rain on her chilled skin and the breeze biting through her drenched clothing, before questioning, "What do you mean that it's taken them long enough. They used to work together."

"You can work together with someone and still hate them. We've seen that enough today."

"We both know that isn't hate. That's a stressful situation and strain from extreme physical workout. He claims that another Gifted wants to fight him and that he was the reason for a dignitary's death. He is a Gifted-that's not what they do."

"In a way, that's all we did when you think about it- kill officials."

"I'm not talking about people like us. I'm talking about-" Alice caught herself as the emotion was leaking into her voice. She took a moment to breath before rephrasing. "Kill or be killed-we all know that's how life works. Death is another step in life we all must take-I know. However, He made it sound as though this Gifted did it for sport-to send a message even. I understand the power of a show but not from someone like this Gifted."

For a moment, the figure was silent, and then:

"You've romanticized us. Simply because we stood against the God Kings didn't make us good; we simply had a common enemy. And the Devil's Fire is, undoubtedly, was one of the evil of our number."

Alice felt her fists clench viciously tight at the armor's words, "I've romanticized nothing. I was there. I lived through that war. I watched the people and placed I love die in front of me because of the God Kings and watched The Gifted fight for people like me. I watched all of them save us from letting the world go up in screams and blood. No one evil would do something like that. They'd have slaughtered any and everyone because they had the power to. The evil do not protect the weak."

"And I'm telling you you're wrong. Evil surround themselves in the weak all the time; the weak surround evil all the time. Wake up."

Christopher's hand immediately gripped Alice's.

She simply stared at the armor with a stony face for a long moment before her mouth formed more words with lack luster phrasing. "Now that you've said your piece are we allowed to stay under this rock until morning or are you going to try and hurt another one of us?" Alice's hand didn't even react to Chris'-just staying clenched and cold.

"So long as you lot maintain some control over your mouths. Especially that one."

"Oi."

Alice swatted the back of Christopher's head in reaction to him pointedly making a noise at the armor. "Come along you irresponsible little brat." She quietly stated as she grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the over hanging, "You-dry off and be quiet." She quietly but harshly stated before turning back into the rain and retrieving the pistol's she'd dropping in the rain. She returned under the overhang without so much as a glance at the armor before taking her spot again at the back of the dry spot-quietly grumbling to herself about being hungry.

Christopher approached only with the slightest bit of hesitance. Though he had already stated that if he was going to be killed by this figure it would have happened already, but something about it was still... unsettling. And despite his misgivings he still approached, doing his best to dry off in the cold once again.

And the armor continued to loom.

Drosil merely ignored the poison within Christopher's words, instead letting his mind wonder into speculations about the potential limits of the boys remarkable healing ability. I wonder, could he truly come out of being struck by lighting completely unscathed, with no side effects? The boy's current state is a clear sign that his ability had it's limits, so it's not a stretch to think that taking in such a huge amount of energy into his body so suddenly was something within the realm of ending his life. Not to mention that his reckless nature often leaves him open to rather crippling attacks, so it wouldn't be difficult for another foe as strong as, let's say, The Advisor to take another limb from him, or even possibly his head if they were feeling particularly bloodthirsty.

Before he could continue his current train of thought, however, the cave was suddenly lit up with a flurry of action as the suit of armor from before launched a sudden attack at Christopher, knocking the boy back out into the rain. Drosil reached down to grasp his pistol with his spare hand, but he soon found himself hanging on for dead life as Sir Mauls reared up on it's back legs, letting out a clattering hiss at the strange speaking armor. However, before the Deathcrawler could launch an offensive, Drosil was quick to whisper words to the beast in the arcane tongue, working to calm the creature before he escalated the situation. The soft tones and the hidden power within the words soothed Sir Mauls agitation, and as they lowered themselves back to the ground, Drosil watched the suit of armor with a wary eye while keeping his pistol trained at their back. However, Alice soon proved that such a tactic was ultimately useless as she unleased a volley at the armor, only for it to seemingly call lightning down from the sky in order to defend itself. Clearly, this thing could kill them all with ease but felt no inclination to do so because that was how little a threat they were to it, that much was clear from the way it spoke to and treated them. Not wanting to cause further hostility, Drosil kept quiet, apart from the odd whispered phrase to Sir Mauls to keep him calmed and passive.

Soon, the situation died down to a uneasy truce between the two sides, with the suit of armor wishing for quiet and Alice playing as Christopher's baby-sitter. And the armor just sat there, once more completely still as if it hadn't moved an inch. Drosil momentarily considered to try and speak to the armor, to find out what was their deal. However, considering that they didn't seem like the party very much, he thought i best not to bother them. Besides, he needed to focus on not only his exercises, but also the plausible route the group wold be taking through the ruins to the proper warp gate, as well as remember the positions of all the sentries and traps. With that in mind, he went back to what he was doing prior to the stranger's interruptions while also bring to the fore thoughts of the ruins, wondering if things had stayed the same since he'd last been there.

Silence fell over the group, the armor itself seeming especially quiet. Save for the harsh cracks of thunder, which always roared almost immediately after flashes of lightning, there was no noise beyond the consistent, heavy fall of rain... And then, slowly, the helmet of the armor turned, looking over to the side where Vesta remained. For a moment, it seemed to stare (for it was impossible to tell where it was truly looking, with no eyes to speak of), and then it said:

"You consider that boy your student, then?"

From where he sat Christopher nearly responded, it being clear from the way his head upturned ever slightly; but then he relaxed once again, looking back towards the ruin fire rather than saying anything.

There was no hiding the annoyance in Joy's sigh as she realized that the armor was talking to her. Once it had become apparent that she wouldn't need to step in and pry it to pieces (or that she wouldn't be able to pry it to pieces), the older woman had been quite content with just sitting there until the storm had passed. However, considering her unnatural company, she had a rather strong inkling that the storm would not have a natural end. Shifting ever so slightly, she lifted up her head and gave the living armor a look that was withering enough to turn it into rust.

"He is," she said, and then she held her tongue. Obviously, she had no intention in bantering with the thing.

The armor did not crumble or waver, and simply continued.

"Good luck, then. Keep him on a short leash, then. He'll get himself killed one day."

Christopher, try as he might, couldn't hold back a, "Hey, fuck you too."

"One day soon."

"Only if he doesn't take his lessons to heart," said Joy, her eyes not moving from the empty helmet.

It was then the armor made a noise, one that was quite unexpected; hard to tell at first, it could only be described as very soft, very slight chuckling. It continued, even as it once more settled back into position, helmet turning from her.

"Indeed."

Joy only added a quiet "hmph" as she settled back against the wall, her eyes never leaving the armor.

[arcanestatic]

It wasn't long before the rest of the group had departed. To soon for the pirate, as he was still healing from aches and pains seemingly all over his body. He was in no hurry like Joachim or Christopher, and decided to travel with the king and whoever was left over. He wanted to speak with Cyril at some point anyway, though now wasn't such a good time, he figured.

While the others around him prepared in various ways and differences for the journey ahead, Dalious simply leaned against the castle walls of the courtyard. He pulled out an apple and a small knife from his cloak, taking his time to eat as he patiently waited for orders. A young man was near to him, and was entirely focused on a kart filled with potions and other alchemy supplies.

"That is quite a lot to carry into battle," Dalious said, after finishing his apple and tossing the core away. He actually had no clue what measure of enemy they were trailing in Kyora, but if it was anything like what his image was painted as, a battle was ahead without doubt. He approached the cart and began taking a closer look at all of the supplies. "I mean, we are chasing something horrible. Eventually we will find it. This little alchemy lab will only slow you down, lag you behind. The big bad will probably kill you first. Not slowly either, I've seen what it can do to people. Ripping their flesh and limbs off, possibly for enjoyment rather than survival. Maybe saving the insides for its little monster children. Devine's hell." Dalious shook his head at the thought of it all. "Anyway, do you have any dragongrass?"

The gentleman that approached had a certain swagger to his walk that only a man of the sea could have. Not that Godfrey recognized it-- he'd never been off dry land in his life. He looked up from the small burner he'd temporarily set up, on top of which a small kettle steamed merrily. Beside it sat a cup, empty but for a small metallic cage with brown leaves inside.

"You make quite a strong first impression, sirrah," he said, nodding to the man. "I don't think I plan on finding myself in a fight, though... I'm no warrior. I'm here by the king's behest to act as an advisor and state alchemist, but I don't think those duties include taking up arms." He said this, but strapped tightly to the side of his cart was the plain, function-over-form rapier he used for settling personal disputes. "If you intend to charge into battle, I'm certain I can give you something that might help keep you safe or uninjured, though..." he added.

"Dragongrass, a mild anaesthetique with hallucinogenic and carcinogenic effects when ingested or inhaled. Native to temperate zones with acces to fresh water. Medically, it's useful for alleviating chronic pain. Alchemically, its compounds react well with certain reagents to bring out a stronger concentration of mind-affecting substances. When last I checked, the amount produced naturally outside of human cultivation had lessened alarmingly. Of course I've got a small stock of it," he said, with a sly grin.

The pirate nodded along with a slight confused look as the man explained pipe weed in grave detail, using big words he wasn't sure if he understood. He just squinted a bit and kept nodding. "Yeah, that's it. I'll take all you've got."

"Godfrey Hildebrand, erstwhile State Alchemist and forensic advisor to His Highness the King, at your service," said the boy, drawing back the cover on the cart and rummaging for a small parcel marked "Reagent 46-B." He set it on top of the cart, not handing it over directly just yet.

"Captain Dalious Durendail, furthest pirate from the sea," he replied with a half bow. "Loyal companion and friend to the king. He saved my life once, now I fight for him. Free of charge, as has been recently decided." Of which Alice had great influence with. "I've come to terms with myself. I realize, I enjoy killing. Our enemies, of course." He coughed. "So yes, I do intend to charge into battle. What have you got, mate?"

His eyes flashed. "You look like the type that enjoys a good rough-and-tumble. If you're fighting for the king, it's my duty to make sure you come out the other side as undamaged as possible. Hang on a second, I think I've got something you'll like." He turned, pouring the hot water from his kettle into the cup and tossing the now-empty vessel back into the cart before swiftly and deftly assembling a few apparati together.

Dalious watched on curiously, overlooking a few of the vials he kept. One in particular caught his eyes, with a label of a skull and crossbones on it. It reminded him of sailing the seas under a flag with a similar design. He decided to not speak of it for now.

It took Godfrey only a few minutes adding powders and liquids to tubes and vials, letting them rest over the burner fire until they vaporized or melted. He turned back, dusted his hands on his apron, and nodded. "I'm synthesizing a modified adrenal release solution with a muscle stimulant and a bit of... well, it's complicated, but the short of it is like this. You down this a few minutes before you get to fighting, and you should be able to process more information more quickly than normal, resulting in faster reaction times. It'll make the synapses in your brain work faster and more efficiently, and it'll also give you a boost in endurance and dull pain receptors. Most impressively," he said, and turned back to the bubbling glassware.

"...with the right applications, some people even say they can see a few seconds into the future when they make use of it." His back was to the pirate, but anyone could see the beaming pride coming from his face. "Let's see any magician do that in so little time."

"Impressive, if it works," Dalious replied. "Forgive me if I don't trust you right away, it takes a few more potions at least to earn my side. For all I know, you could even be a spy. Luckily, I have a solution to this." He grabbed another of Godfrey's cups and laid it down as if it were an empty shot glass. "You take it first, so that I know it is not poisoned. Then I will take it, mainly because it sounds absolutely amazing. If we die, then least I saved the king from your treachery, no offense. If it works, then I think we should be best friends. I will also protect you with my life, but only if she works." Dalious grabbed the cup and held it in front of Godfrey, expecting him to down his own blend with him. "Well, how 'bout it?"

His eye glinted. "You offend my honour, good sir! I've had it a few times, so my system is more accustomed to it. Do you want to give it a better wager, maybe?"

This gentleman was honest with his words, straightforward and entertaining, a far cry from the old women and injured folk he'd been dealing with of late. He grinned, and reached back for his rapier, taking the cup in his left hand and the sword in his right, buckling the scabbard tightly onto the blade to prevent cuts.

"To settle this grievous matter of honor, and to burn off the adrenaline because it will be unbearable without some kind of physical movement to circulate it through your bloodstream faster, I challenge you to a duel. First to 3 touches retains their honor, good sir!" He chuckled again. "I may not be a fighter, but I've been told I'm a decent duelist."

"I meant no offense, Sir Godfrey," Dalious replied, though he already started taking off his cloak and top. He stretched his muscles and rotated his arms, then cracked his neck. His bare chest and arms were covered in tattoos of map layouts, ship blueprints, a compass at his heart, and various other sea related tribals. "...but I never turn down a challenge! Decent duelist or elite warrior, it matters not. I will duel with you, but it has to be fair." Normally he was one for cheating, but in this case he viewed it as a friendly handicap. He kept his katana sheathed, making it similar to a bo staff.

Dalious then ripped a portion off of his cloak, wrapping it tightly around his eyes to blind his sight. It had been awhile since he honed these skills in particular, dating back to the arena when he fought for the king. What better time to get a practice session in then when you have a new enhancement potion.

"There, fair is fair," he said. He blindly reached over and snatched up one of the cups with the potion inside. "Cheers!" He downed the shot before remembering to wait for the alchemist to take it first. The effects almost hitting him instantly. Though his sight was blocked, he could feel things around him. The fluttering of a butterfly in the bushes, the yells of the soldiers training behind the thick castle walls, the whispers from those all around him. He kept turning his head at each sound, a smile wide on his face. It worked, it really worked!

He suddenly wanted to do push ups.

"It's good Godfrey, oh it's good," he muttered. "I'm sorry I doubted you, mate."
He watched the man blindfold himself, and sighed. Show-offs. The pirate downed his portion of the drink, and Godfrey could tell that the effects started to manifest quickly by the way his movements became smoother, quicker. With a sigh, he turned the bottom of his cup up, and let the solution flow into his mouth.

It would take a minute for it to work with his metabolism, because he'd used it a few times before. Nevertheless, he made a fist of his left hand and rested it on his back hip, bending both his knees a bit.

"I can sense everything! I've never felt quite-"

The pirate sure talked a lot. He took the opportunity to tap him in the center of the chest with a small extension and advance, making a solid but light contact. He stepped back, and then re-entered his en garde again. "That's one," he said, and grinned.

Dalious couldn't help but to smirk after he felt the tap on his chest. His mind did seem to wander a little too often when amongst safe company, allowing his new companion to score a point. He then lifted his blindfold for a moment to see the stance Godfrey was in. Putting the blindfold back on firmly, he prepared his own stance. He kept his left leg forward and slightly bent, while both hands held onto the katana's hilt parallel to his face. The sheathed sword was held high, his entire body aimed sideways.

"That's a fancy stance," Dalious said, slowly moving to the left in a circular motion. "Did you learn that in a castle?" Instead of waiting to parry like he normally would, he quickly strafed right and blindly gave out three light, yet solid, attacks. The first aimed toward Godfrey's left knee cap, the second twirled backward in a half circle to deflect anything and change the direction, while the third came back a half circle again and toward his head.

The weapon he used was heavier and blunter than a rapier-- Godfrey's first instinct to parry with the blade was rejected by the knowledge that his parry wouldn't do much against something with more mass and inertia than his thin foible, even with the leather scabbard around it. He opted to retreat backward a step, letting the weapon pass just barely in front of his leg, and watched as the second movement swung through where he was only moments before. When the third came for his head, be beat it upward with the basket of the rapier, a far more effective parry than any he could do with the blade, letting it whiz through the air above his head before stepping forward and dropping the end of his rapier onto the top of the pirate's foot.

The half-dose of the compound he'd taken was nice, made his eyes faster and his feet lighter, but without the full dose he was unlikely to be able to sense the movements his opponent would make before he made them. Full doses tend to cause hallucinations and dizziness if not burned out of metabolism, but a half-dose should be okay for just a little bit of a game like this one.

"That's two," he said, and smirked. "Not a castle, but my... family's manor house. Back in the day. After all, what gentleman doesn't settle his disagreements with elegant and rule-based tests of martial prowess? But you, sir, are unorthodox in your style..."

"...I've crossed blades with many on my travels. You either adapt, or die," Dalious replied. He took off the blindfold, tossing it aside. "Apparently ive misjudged you, attacking the foot is smart on an elusive opponent, like myself. I don't know if that would fare against our enemies, but regardless, I take it back. Perhaps you won't die so easily." As he spoke he knelt down to rub his foot that was just hit, secretly picking up a handful of dirt between the cracks of the courtyard stone flooring.

"Your enemies won't play a point game with you," he continued, now slowly walking around again in a circle. "So what if I step here?..." He turned in direction, noting Geoffrey change in stance. "Good. And here?"

A change again.

"Youre waiting for the counter attack, smart. Don't rely on it. Sometimes you need to be unorthodox."

Dalious changed his stance with nearly every step he took, from an ancient assassin approach, to a barbaric long sword stance, then to a water dance stature, somewhat resembling godfreys in elegance, though very different in tactic and attack. He lunged forward when he saw an opening, going for the same leg from a different angle. Except this time, he threw it as a fake, using his free hand to throw the dirt he had collected direct into Godfrey's face.

"Expect rules to be broken," he added, as he moved in to tap his opponent three times at his body, one after the other, very quickly. "Game!" He flipped his covered blade back down to become a walking stick again.
His eyes watered intensely, and he dropped the rapier, putting his hands up to his face. "Why you--!" he said, half-good-naturedly and half how-dare-you. Then, the three taps came in rapid succession, an action he should have expected the man to take. He felt mildly insulted, even as the compound's effects slowly faded.
"Fair is only fair until it is unfair. Kill first, feel bad about it later," he said. "...you okay, mate?" Dalious took it upon himself to grab a clear based vile from Godfrey's mobile kart, thinking it to be water. He opened it up and approached. "Sorry, that was a bit uncalled for wasn't it? Here, you need to cleanse." He attempted to pour the substance in Godfrey's already irritated eyes.

"I'm fine--" he began to say, when he heard the stopper of the bottle uncork. The faint but distinct scent of Lunar Caustic solution wafted into his nostrils, and he tensed his body up. "No, wai--"

The liquid splashed into his face, and he bit his lip so hard it bled. The slightly oily compound sunk into his skin slightly, invaded his eyes. Almost instantly, even as he cried out, the skin where the compound came in contact turned a silvery-grey, running in streaks and splatters down his face.

Godfrey sharply pushed the pirate away, and stumbled blindly for a second before sinking to his knees. "You fool! You absolute fool of a man, you... you...!" he growled, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve. "Lunar Caustic? You thought that was water? Imbecile!"

"That escalated very quickly! ...and your labels are quite confusing!" Dalious gave the man more room as he began to put his pale tunic and brown cloak back on.

It took Godfrey several seconds before he could force his eyes open-- they, too, were turned silvery-grey, matching the blotches of skin on his face. He swore, uttering epithets that his usual tongue could not, would not form. His vision was blurred, his eyes stung and watered, and all he could smell was the silver nitrate solution. The irregular coloring on his face and eyes was unsettling and stark, and the words that left his lips were uncharacteristic of him.

"...sorry," he managed through gritted teeth. "You didn't know, you were trying to help," he said, his vision clear enough now to stagger toward his cart to get some saline to actually wash his eyes.

"Apology accepted," Dalious replied. While Godfrey properly washed his eyes, the pirate took the time to load some dragongrass into his pipe. He took a few drags, the hits seemingly heightened from the potion still coursing within him. "Lets get down to brass tax here, what kind of poisons do you have?"

It was just an assumption. Perhaps it was the complete wrong time to ask, but truthfully all he wanted was something to add to his arsenal. The enemies of this world were far to dangerous to not be stocked up in everything and anything.

The alchemist looked back up at Dalious, his eyes and face silvery-grey and blotched.
"It's hardly noticeable," Dalious lied.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, and with a slightly indignant "humph," he pulled the canvas cover back over the cart, fastening it to the hooks along the wooden frame.

"I think our conversation has grown too long," he continued, without waiting for a response. "Surely you've things to do somewhere, and I certainly must continue preparing for the journey. Leastways, if you are going to use the reagent I gave you for recreational purposes, I'd ask you do it somewhere that will not contaminate my things with the odor." He rubbed his eyes again. "Good day to you, sir."

He gathered up the glassware he'd been using, and drained them into a metallic pail half-filled with dry sand. He made sure to make himself look very busy in cleaning them. Purposefully.

"Touch-y!" Dalious replied and gave a farewell nod. It was clear that he had outstayed his welcome with the newcomer of the group. Though he had more to ask, he respected the boy's request, waving away some of the smoke from his pipe as he turned to walk away. It was indeed going to be a long trip to Kyora.

The pirate walked a few steps further, again leaning against a castle wall and continuing to smoke his dragongrass. All of the others had departed already, and soon it would be time for the king to make journey. Hopefully sooner rather than later, as Dalious was now itching for some new scenery.

---

Day of Departure - Border Regions

On the day Joachim met Yaguar once again and those with Christopher experienced an unrelenting tempest, the King and his Sentinels departed from the Capitol. With the size of the party, those involved, and what was being brought along the path ahead of them was the road, and just the road. There was no planned moment for departing the beaten path, no shortcuts in mind.

And so the evening of their first day of travel, and the second after the original departure of Joachim, the King and his party entered those border regions that created a fuzz in the map lines along the borders of the three largest nations. Though Kyora was certainly the most successful, independent, and long last city-state, it wasn't the only one, and there were fiefdoms and small lordships as well. Most appeared for, at best, years at a time before being eaten by another upsurging nation, or simply collapsing under its own weight.

To those who had lived in the larger nations for most of their lives, these border regions were strange, the people anything from shifty and inconsistent to overeager cutthroats. Though there were a fair few "clear paths" where one would not have to pass through a border region going from Barcea to H'kela, for example, Kyora was surrounded by these smaller, ambitious gatherings. There would be no avoiding them.

Around two weeks ago, Cyril had known this particular region to be called Fiel, but that didn't matter in the present. For all any of them knew Fiel had collapsed days before (or the day of, for that matter), but it seemed that those of the one and only village the group came across held no major dedication towards that banner. That was how it went for most of the villages within these border reasons; whoever they paid tribute to changed so often that regular citizens simply rolled with the punches.

And yet those in this village were... unique, in a word. Calypso-like smiles were everywhere, and the woman seemed to be perfectly at home. For everyone else though, there was a heavy, uncomfortable air that bordered on the unnatural. And these were only those that they could see as well, more than once a Sentinel noticed a sudden shade drawn, or a door suddenly close.

No, something was very, very wrong here.

"We should have camped elsewhere."

"We would have to come through here at some point anyway, Alasa."

"Better tomorrow, with us completely rested rather than with the sun falling on us."

"Relax. They haven't done anything yet. We haven't done anything yet."

"Even you're saying yet right now."

Cyril sighed, nodding as well. Though he had been given no reason to feel such a way other than the strangeness of the village, he too felt a pressure building in his chest. It would be time to act soon, he could feel it, despite the waving of the nearby men and women with their polite, consistent smiles. At least Calypso seemed happy, he saw with a glance over his shoulder; Sampson, on the other hand, seemed utterly nervous, Gortul was uncomfortable and made it clear, and Diane looked around with utter disdain.

"Alright, alright." The King's fist went up then, bringing the train to a halt. They were near what seemed to be a storefront, but the windows were strangely empty, and they could see the shelves within matched. Deciding that here was as good as any place, he looked over his shoulder once again, calling out, "Sir Argentum, Master Dubois, do you mind grabbing us some supplies? Some extra tinder will be especially helpful tonight."

"By your command, King Serio." The Paladin was the one who spoke, dismounting even as the Direwolf was silently stepping through the door already. On his massive steed Kisarin went forwards a little, so that he could come to a step next to Cyril.

"Any particular reason why?"

"They're the best two at carrying out this task."

As a murmur passed down the Barcean line to prepare everyone for what was to come, within the store things remained quiet. The party was able to watch Alsius as he stepped towards the counter with just a tinderbox. Dubois, on the other hand, took his time, picking up some food, a bag, and rope as well, settling it down on the counter. Once again, he spoke:

"Quite a big village you have here, sir. Full of life."

"Indeed!" The man behind the counter smiled just like everyone else did, and watched as the Paladin set down coins that seemed tiny compared to his hands. "Plenty of newcomers, all the time. We're steadily growing."

"Ah, that's good to hear. It's always good to see small places flourish. Though, I can't help but ask..." The Paladin's glasses glinted as he tilted his head. "Where might be all the little tykes?"

The man hesitated, his smile faltered, and he moved. He attempted to reach for something under the counter, but the Paladin reached more quickly for his head. Grabbing him by the face, with a frighteningly easy sort of movement he brought his hand down, twisting the man's body around in the process; as his limbs flailed about with the spin, his head met counter, and his skull shattered and flesh ruptured.

From the back room, over the counter the woman who was in the building leaped, and in her hand was a blade. Across the Paladin's throat she swung it with her jump, slicing it open and forcing his head back and blood gushed upwards, but she continued rushing forwards towards the Direwolf. As she did so she screamed, a war cry that shook the windows-

The Direwolf's blade silently stabbed through her throat, the man yanking away as her body twitched and then fell.

The massive form of the Paladin staggered, before he began to turn, hand coming up to gently touch at the rapidly healing split in his own throat. "Well, that's two of them."

And, outside, the situation erupted into chaos. The King was the first to draw his blade, doing so as soon as the Paladin had begun to slam the man's head into the counter, but even as the rest of the Sentinels followed suit those people who stood in the streets did the same, drawing daggers and the like from sleeves, boots, and waists. Suddenly, doors slammed open as those who had been waiting and preparing within emerged with swords, shields, axes, spears, and bows prepared to use them-

But the King beat them to the punch, swinging the Gift forwards, shouting, "Take them all down!"

The ground rumbled as Kisarin hit the ground with both feet, the massive horse that carried him rearing behind him. He brought his blade from around his back, swinging the massive weapon down and forwards; the shield of the unfortunate soul who was closest to him split, and that was quickly followed by the body.

Arrows flew from Alasa, nearly two at a time, even as Gortul threw himself from his horse and used his axe as more of a blunt instrument to crush two attackers to the ground at once. Remaining on his horse, Sampson swung back and forth, definitely using his shield to ward off arrows and blows from both himself and his horse; from behind him, every so often a wooden staff flashed down, Diane clobbering someone senseless suddenly as she remained close.

And then there was Calypso. Though the smiles of those in the village were replaced by looks of surprisingly murderous intent, hers had not faded in the slightest. She had slipped into the thick of the rapidly swelling battle, disappearing from sight briefly- and then suddenly those archers that appeared on the rooftops up above reeled and swung about to try and face her entire as she stepped from one roof to the next, wires flashing all about her and sending smoothly carved chunks flying every which way.

All through the initial leave of the castle Stark had chattered incessantly to Godfrey about the various members of whom he would meet later. This would be, of course, after asking him what in the Divine’s happened when she had come into contact with him again only to find that his face was botched in a silver color akin to her own hair color.

When she had questioned him he had answered with something along the lines of, “Chemical... accident. Someone played with a chemical without knowing what it was, and I now bear the brunt of it. I'm fine, it's just ugly and annoying." Stark had, less than obviously, stared at the blotches on his face periodically as worry lingered in the back of her mind.

While she had the habit of talking quickly and with perhaps a few too many words at a time, Godfrey wasn’t unfamiliar with the way she communicated. The women in the town near his shop were always looking for someone to share gossip with, even if it was the person from whom they were in the process of buying personal medicines. Still, having someone like Stark, who knew everyone and had information on everything, around would probably be a good asset.

“I just hope that in the future, people don’t just randomly pick up the first compound available and expect it to be water. I’m a chemist, Divines’ sake, I have some pretty rough stuff in this cart,” he said, tapping the side of the cart with his hand.

Stark listened as she eyes the various items in the cart from her position on the horse. “Do you practice safety measures and label everything?” The question was simple enough as they continued on their way from the castle and towards Kyora.

“It’s labeled ‘LC 3,’ which is pretty clear if you ask me,” he said, a bit embarrassed. “LC 3, for Lunar Caustic three-tenths concentrate. Used for electroplating, mostly, but can be diluted to a smaller concentration to help-- oh, well, whatever. The point is that nobody else ever needed to know what the things meant, and they made sense to me. This whole state-alchemist thing is still really strange for me. I’m used to working by myself,” he explained.

“It wasn’t his fault, certainly, but that damnable seaman should know better than to play with bottles belonging to the man who just brewed him a chemical concoction.” He crossed his arms, humph-ed.

Stark nodded and listened as Godfrey spoke about the incident in a bit more detail. “Well perhaps he should have asked ahead of time what he was grabbing but not all of us here are trained in alchemy like you are, Ser. Ser Dalious was likely just trying to help….even if he isn’t the greatest to help in that kind of situation.” Stark couldn’t help but giggle at the notion. “At least he didn’t give you anything that could have caused you to burn into flames or each away your flesh, right?” She tried to offer a silver lining to the situation. “If you need help labeling things I can assist-I’ve been told my handwriting is very neat!” Stark was clearly proud of that fact about herself.

“I’m not very good with identifying chemicals though so I’d likely ask you a million questions on how to properly spell things or to double check...but I’m willing to help~!”

Godfrey’s sigh resounded. “Thank probability for that, I suppose.” He shrugged. “When we set down somewhere, I can show you some of the things I have, if you’d like. I suppose I’d appreciate the help, if I’m going to need to re-label all my things to combat the possibility of noxious tea-water or something.” He was clearly just ever-so-slightly bitter.

“So, can you tell me any more about the new King? I’m a product of the previous administration, and I’m not really familiar with what His Highness stands for. I’ve heard people call him by his first name several times-- isn’t that strange to anyone else?”

Stark couldn’t help but laugh as she glanced ahead at Cyril in the front of the traveling party, “His Highness is called Cyril-he’s the newest King of Barcea and the leader of the group you’re currently traveling in. They’re called The Sentinels. There are several in the party that are contracted into the party, myself included, to help him as he sees fit. He’s very kind, if just a bit quiet, and is a ferocious fighter. He isn’t very much so into the whole ‘King’ title thing-I think it makes him uncomfortable.”

Stark began to give short bursts of information about the rest in their current party. “The grumpy archer is Alasa. He’s quiet but boy does he have some snappy lines from time to time. The big one there is Sampson- he eats. ALOT. Gortul is another sentinel and he is very loud and very strong but his speech pattern takes a little bit of getting used to. The woman right there is Lady Diane-she’s a healer. She’s very nice when I go to see her, even if she scolds me, and may come off as intimidating but she’s amazing at what she does. You’ll see her in combat soon.” Stark h’m a moment before going on.

“You already know Sir Dalious, he was once the captain of a pirate ship. He talks about it from time to time but I think it makes him sad so I try not to ask. He drinks alot and flirts with Miss Leo- Alice...and just about anyone else he can find. The white haired woman who smiles more often than not is Miss Calypso. She’s a bit quiet as well but she’s lovely. She has these wires she fights with and just-oh~.” Stark gushed just a bit before remembering herself, “ Chief Kisarin is an ally of Barcea and His Highness and his here with us about his sister…. I haven’t had a much time to spend with him but before recent events.” Stark grew quiet once more before coughing into her hand, “Ahem, anyways. The gentlemen with the red hair is Ser Alsuis Argentum.”

She leaned closer towards Godfrey, “Ten out of ten don’t engage. He’s an amazing fighter but he’s scary and a little mean.” She prayed she had whispered quiet enough for him not to have heard her before speaking again. “The gentlemen with the glasses is Mister Dubois. He’s also teaching me right now about everything-mostly the Divines. If you ever have any questions he’s the one to go to~! Oh, and he’s also the mentor to Christopher-he’s a little older than me and he punches stuff. He’s mean sometimes too but I think he’s just-” She paused as the air around them all shifted.

Stark’s pupils thinned as her head observed the odd village and the very off people. The gooseflesh on her arms rising as she spoke quietly to Godfrey, “Stay close.” It was a clear warning as their train stopped and Cyril called for the last two men Stark spoke of to go and get supplies-the whispers of potential combat making their way to her and Godfrey’s position towards the end of the train.

The water mage seemed to bristle just moments before several of the villagers burst forth and began to attack them.

He’d been listening intently, trying to make notes of who was whom, with whom he’d already interacted, and who to watch later on, when suddenly he, too, felt the atmosphere change a little, very subtly. As if they had been preparing for the party to arrive, the villagers seemed to appear from every corner and shadow, brandishing their weapons-- however crude-- and with very visible and easy-to-understand intent to harm them.

He’d felt that shift before-- the air of an unfair fight. He pressed himself back against the cart, his hand closing deftly around the hilt of the rapier secured to its side. Multiple assailants were not his strong suit, at all. With a quick burst of thought, he drew the weapon out and, in the same step, sidled his back up against Stark’s. Better to have someone you trust behind, than to have nothing to help.

“What on earth is happening?” he called back to Stark. “Did we come into enemy territory so quickly?”

Stark was off her horse in a flash, pushing her back to Godfrey’s with a frown, “I’m not sure but they aren’t that happy to see us!” She explained as she opened up one of her water skin’s up and sent a torrent of water towards a villager who was coming at her with an axe. “Do you know how to fight with that thing?” She asked as she looked over her shoulder in a quick glance.

“One person at a time, maybe, but this kind of thing isn’t exactly my cup of tea--” he said, and used the basket of his rapier to beat away a swing from a gnarly man with a sickle. The curved blade whizzed, inches away from his elbow, and he tensed for a moment. When was the last time he’d been in an actual fight? He shook his head, focused on keeping all applicable assailants in his field of vision.

“I forgot you were a magician,” he said back over his shoulder, flicking the rapier to the inside of the sickle-man’s arm, where the tip grazed the inside of his wrist, biting through the skin to sever tendons. The sickle clattered to the ground, and Godfrey put his heel on top of the flat of the blade, using his other knee to drive up into the man’s solar plexus and push him away. Keep the ground by your feet clear-- nothing is worse in a fight than not having ample foot room.

What caused these people to outright attack them? The village looked decently peaceful only moments before. Was it some sorcery? An elaborate-- perhaps too elaborate-- ruse? He wondered frantically as the next opponent closed in. His heart beat hard, pushed rich, wet, red blood through his veins.

“A magician. Yeah, sure! Let’s-” Stark gave a grunt as she sent a larger stronger torrent of water at more on coming enemies to knock them off of their feet and drop their weapons. “-Go with that.” She finished as the blue spell circle at her feet brightened just a bit before a slight chill came over the immediate area around Stark as the floating water around her turned to ice before shooting forth and spearing several of the individuals into the ground and buildings behind them.

Momentarily, his breath came out as a puff of mist. He looked back just in time to see the water in the air freeze, and eviscerate a small group of villagers.

“Divines, Stark, do we have to turn them into jam?” he said, and covered his mouth with his left hand. He turned back just in time to parry, riposte, and disable the shoulder joint of, the next attacker, the first one he’d seen with an actual weapon. The assailant’s sword clattered to the ground, and Godfrey brought his basket hard into the side of his face.

In doing so, though, he stepped away from Stark momentarily-- and just enough to catch a club’s blow to the shin. He swore, and dropped to one knee, just barely missing another blow. His eyes locked with a man with a long farmer’s scythe, whose reach he could not beat. The man began to wind his swing up.

Something that heavy and sharp would cut his rapier, basket and all, right in half.

“Stark--!”

Stark had been busy keeping enemies at a distance and away from the cart that when Godfrey moved back from her she shutter stepped back before turning at the call of her name. She acted instinctively as she followed the rotation of her body and thrust her right hand forward towards the scythe using man’s face.

He took steps back as a sphere of water engulfed his head-sufficiently cutting off his access to oxygen and his grip on his scythe. Stark, all within a few second, growled before she closed ehr fist and the water seemed to disappear into the man’s body before he fell to his knees shaking and clawing at his throat before falling back-drowned while completely dry.

“Are you alright?” Stark asked as she dropped to a knee ready to help him stand.

He grabbed her hand with his left hand, and pulled himself up to his feet strongly, using that momentum to put his point between the ribs of another assailant. “I owe you one,” he said, pulling back out of the man’s lung. He stumbled, limped a bit, but his bone wasn’t broken.
“I’m glad I’m on your side,” he said lowly. The crowd of assailants seemed to be thinning, thankfully, but there were still threats to deal with. Even so, his mind wandered to the scientific…

What would happen if Stark encountered a desiccant? Could she steal the water from a compound, thus multiplying its concentration? Does her ability extend only to water, or could she use any fluid?

From the outside, it looked like he’d fallen sullenly silent, and his movements became just slightly more mechanical, more efficient. Parry with the basket, rap the foible against the offender’s arm, disable the muscles by severing, move to the next opponent.

Stark snorted at his comment of being on her side, “Just wait til you meet everyone else. You’ll be happy you’re in this group!” The latter of the sentence was exclaimed as she leaned to the side to avoid an arrow that lodged itself into the side of the cart before she sent a volley of ice spears towards the arrows origin.

Even with the enemies thinning Stark was getting more and more irritated as it turned into something of target practice of ice spears flying towards the enemies. She would be far more creative with her use of the ice but her time training with ice had been limited so she may as well work with what she was given.

It wasn’t a long fight-- they rarely were-- before the surrounding area was littered with the injured, dead, and decimated. Godfrey panted, leaned back on his cart, hung his naked blade on the arrow that still stuck out the side of it.

“Well, colleagues,” he said, and dusted himself off, rolling up his trouser leg to see the injury, “what in the names of the Divines was this?” Tenderly, he prodded at the already-deep-purple wound, and winced.

Godfrey was not a fighter, and it showed in his lack of stamina.

“That would be called a regular day for this lot.” Stark cooly said as she narrowed her eyes to the surrounding area-looking for other potential enemies. “How is your leg? Can you walk? Is it broken?” Clearly the girl was concerned-if not overly so about their newest member.

He grinned, motioned toward the large bruise. “So long as it does not turn into a lesion, I should be fine. I’ll wrap it up. That guy with the scythe, though-- thanks for your help, there. If I’d have been cut, it would be a pretty different story, though. This is why I don’t really do fighting or adventuring-- I’m so much more likely to get cut and bleed to death out here than in my shop.”

A poultice of fermented willow bark would help with the bruising. He grumbled to himself, looked at Stark. “Are you okay?” he asked back. She was cute, he decided.

Cute, if terrifying.

Stark tilted her head at Godfrey when he asked about her, “What?” It took her a moment to realize he was asking about her well being. “Oh, no, I’m fine! Um, why don’t you go see Lady Diane? She fixes me up really nice after fights.” She danced around her words carefully but subtly enough to not draw any attention. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“I’ll be fine without any magic, thanks,” he said, and fiddled with some of the things in his cart. “Magical healing isn’t something the human body should be afflicted by too often, and I try to keep it out of my system as much as possible.” His distaste was evident, but not offensive-- not yet, at least.

“Are we going to treat the wounded here?” he said, not bothering to wait for the answer before, a small box of supplies in his arms, he hobbled slightly toward a nearby wounded man.

By the time they had reached the village, Dalious had finished carving the Barcea sigil onto the breast plate of his new armor. He put the final piece on as he rode along on horseback, showing off the final product to Gortul. The armor he wore was from the thieves guild, hardened brown leather with numerous pockets and pouches along the waist and chest. He was able to carry a lot more and be quicker, though the damage resistance wasn't very high.

Reaching at the hip to grab his canteen of rum, he opened the cap and hesitated. 'How could she know?' he thought. He assured himself that she couldn't, then took a few long swigs of the alcohol. Still even, he hid the canteen from the others simply out of paranoia.

With the odd air and the creepy smiles on the villagers faces, he quickly found himself feeling uncomfortable. He put his hood on and kept his sight focused ahead, not wanting to accidentally insult one of these people. These days, a single wrong glare to the wrong person could lead to a death match.

As Sir Argentum and Master Dubois entered the shop for supplies, the pirate separated himself from the group. He walked uphill and out of sight, though still within shouting distance. This place felt eerie and dangerous, but then again so did a great many other places they had visited before. Dalious shrugged off the feeling, walking far enough away as to not bother any of his companions with his smoke. Lighting up some of his dragongrass, he noticed peripherally that he was being watched by the villagers, though they avoided eye contact when he looked to them. He took a few more puffs from his pipe as they slowly started to surround him in the yard he was in.

Upon Cyril's order, the silent place erupted in noise and chaos. He heard the others fighting before those villagers around him charged in, their faces crazed and seemingly filled with absolute rage. Or was it all just some dark magic? It didn't matter, Dalious quickly found himself encircled by four of them.

The closest ran in with a machete raised. Dalious took another hit from his pipe weed, pulling out his blunderbuss quickly with his free hand and firing the man's face off. His head exploded in a fountain of blood that sprayed over the others, though it did not stop them in their attack. Holstering the blunderbuss again, he back pedaled and dodged away from a few swings from their weapons. He moved so quickly, that his wounded leg shot a bolt of pain up through his spine. He winced from it and was startled momentarily, though it was enough time for one of the villagers to grab a hold of him. A kitchen knife came for his heart, but he grabbed the attacker's wrist just in time. Dalious pulled hard and fell backward, using his feet to kick the man up and over him, sending him rolling down the hill.

"I'm in no mood for this!" Dalious yelled, agitated now. He unsheathed his blade as the next two were quickly near him. One swung, the other stabbed. Dalious ducked and then parried, using the second of momentum to slice through both men with a single precise strike. Their blood and guts showered over his brand new armor and he grew even angrier. "Dammit!!" He pulled his bow around to his front and fired an arrow into the forehead of the other villager.

Dalious walked over to the others, seeing that the fight was seemingly short had. It was no surprise that the group held out strong, but what was surprising was that Ser Godfrey was still amongst the living. Dalious joined them, taking another quick swig of his booze first.

"Good to see you're still kicking," Dalious said to the alchemist, though his look and focus was more so on Cyril and his next command. He walked past, giving Stark a friendly tap on her shoulder as he made his way back to the king. He looked at Alsius and jokingly stated, "...something you said? You're not very good with people, you know..."

It was the first battle that the King had been in since ascending to the throne, and in it there was a major difference he had not been expecting: his weapon was the only one that did not see use. He had it drawn, more than prepared, and yet before anyone could reach him the Sentinels had surged around him, striking down those attacking with ease. In a matter of moments it was all over, something the King was used to; he was not used to not taking part.

He almost didn't believe it, and those moments immediately following the battle passed in a sort of confused haze. It was only Sampson, who was the first to speak to him, that brought him back.

"Cyril? Cyril...? Cyril!"

He blinked, quickly shaking his head and looking over to the side. There Sampson was upon his horse, concern on his face.

"Yes, yes? I'm sorry, I was thinking. What is it?"

"Are we going to treat the wounded?"

"Yes, yes of course-"

"I'd advise you to think again, your Highness." The Direwolf spoke only after giving a slight roll of his eyes towards Dalious, before turning back to his liege. He held his arm to the side for a brief moment, before suddenly twisting and swinging the blade he held around; the red of the collected blood and bits of gore separated from the blade, splattering up the nearby wall and leaving the blade a pure, spotless silver. "Interrogate them first, before you put any of them in the condition to move once again. We may have a problem here."

Before the King could ask why, a hand came down gently on Godfrey's shoulder. It belonged to the Divine Paladin, who had stopped him softly but firmly, giving a slight shake of his head before he began to step past, towards the man that the chemist had been originally heading towards. "The Direwolf is right, King Serio. I believe I've seen this a few times before, a few years ago; if I'm right, there's nothing we can do for them. But if I'm wrong, then perhaps we can led them our aid."

By that point he had reached the man, who was weakly stirring. Down the Paladin's hand went, and in that moment Damon's hand was none too gentle when he grabbed the wounded man by the ankle, and began to drag him along towards the door of shop the encounter had originally started in; the man began to struggle more, trying to get away. "Just give me a few minutes with this man, and I'll have ye an answer."

The King didn't respond, only watching as the Paladin dragged the man into the shop, and then through the door into the back room, returning to make sure to shut it gently behind him. Still for a moment, Cyril soon dropped from his horse, beginning to walk towards the shop and only stopping when Alsius stood in his path, looking down to the King.

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"It doesn't matter if I am or not. If this is being done in my name, then I better be there."

"That's one way to look at it." The Direwolf stepped to the side, remaining next to the door to the outside as the King passed on through.

Briefly, a scream leaked through the door on the inside as the King stepped through, but it was cut out soon after the door shut.

Inside, the Paladin had already gotten well into his work, so far that Cyril couldn't help but balk slightly as bile rose from the pit of his stomach. At first glance, it seemed like the man that had been dragged in was standing next to the wall, but in reality it wasn't anything so merciful. In the lower middle of his shins two nails had been driven through into the wall behind them, and up above one arm was bent down and around slightly, towards the man's back and then pinned by a nail through the wrist; the scream had been due to fourth nail being driven through the other arm, bludgeoned home by the Paladin's black hammer. The man began to weep afterwards.

The sound of the door closing brought a pause over the Paladin, and with his brow furrowed Damon turned to see that it was the King. Briefly his eyebrows rose up from behind his glasses, and the emotion that came over him didn't belong; the Paladin was embarrassed.

"Ah, King Serio. Ye do not need to be here. This is nasty business, and I am not as skilled as some of those I know. But we need not the skill of the Brilliant Horror here, so please, depart if ye will-"

"Why are you doing this?"

For a moment, the Paladin was silent, and then he looked back to the sobbing man. He sighed, and then to the man said, "Go on, sing yer praises while ye can."

Immediately, a change came over the man. The sobbing cut off suddenly as his eyes flew open. In horror Cyril watched as the man twisted back and forth, struggling against restraints driven through bone, the grinding audible even from the distance. And then the man began to speak in a fervor, practically chanting, "Oh, great Lord Yaguar, come save your humble servant! The enemy is at the gates, and they torture your poor subjects." As he went on he began louder and louder, and the King's eyes widened when, suddenly, the man's body began to steam. It started at the nails, them beginning to glow red hot before the heat spread over his body, flesh cooking as the man began to practically scream, "HEAR MY CRIES, LORD YAGUAR, PLEASE SAVE THOSE WHO LOVE YOUR FIRE-"

And suddenly it all stopped after the Paladin swung with the white hammer. The blow was clearly held back as the man's skull didn't simply shatter, but blood still flew when the side of the man's head was clobbered. He instantly went quiet, going limp and hanging by the nails. Slowly, the Paladin looked towards the King.

"I can barely believe it myself, but what ye are looking at is a Remade person. A man whose soul has been shattered and the pieces cobbled together into a warped picture of loyalty. It is as if a God King or Queen did it themselves."

The King slowly lowered the hand he held over his mouth, gaze still upon the now mercifully unconscious man. Only after the silence had stretched on for several seconds did he find his voice once again with, "Remade? But how...?"

"Ye heard it yerself just now. Somehow, Yaguar is able to Remake others."

"What can we do? Is there anything we can do?"

"At the moment, nothing." Slowly, the Paladin began to bring up the black hammer once more. "The Direwolf is going to advise ye to kill them all, and for the sake of safety I would advise the same. But-"

Cyril's hand shot out, him shaking his head in one harsh movement. "No! Unacceptable!"

The Paladin's hand lowered the hammer. "I had a feeling ye might save that. In that case, the best thing we can do is ride now, without looking back, without assisting any of them. If we are to help them, then they will simply stab us as soon as they can. They cannot help themselves, and are beyond reason. Some will die, almost certainly, but..."

"Say it."

"If we are quick enough, those that survive will be freed with the death of Yaguar. Again some will die then, or be driven to madness, but some may yet survive."

For a moment, the King was silent. When he again spoke, it was quietly. "Take him down, remove the nails if it's safe to do so. We ride now." The Paladin bowed his head even as Cyril turned, leaving him and the man behind as he went out the door.

He didn't say anything as he passed Alsius, but when Diane intercepted him, demanding that the healing begin, he only said, "We ride now."

"What? Have you gone mad? We need to get started now or-" As her voice rose in indignation, her hand had gone forwards to grip him by the wrist and stop him; she yelped slightly when he snapped his hand away and whirled towards her.

"We ride. Now!" He didn't say anything else, instead just turning to pull himself up on his horse. Her eyes wide, mouth open in a little 'o' of both shock and anger, Diane looked over as the Paladin emerged from shop without the man in tow... and before anyone could react she stepped past the much larger man, into the shop and then the room.

Cyril just closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable to come. He flinched only slightly at the shriek.

Like some sort of harpy Diane emerged from the room, her eyes even wider and her nostrils flaring with rage. Her gaze found the Paladin who stood there, waiting, and she brandished her staff as she almost seemed to fly forwards along the ground, another shriek leaving her:

"You MONSTER!"

She began to swing with reckless abandon, but the Paladin did not retaliate. The most he did was turn away from her slightly, bringing up his hands to catch the blows, but it continued on until Alasa came in from the side. He didn't do something so simple as try to try and catch her arms, or hold her back- no, he ran towards her and leaped, tackling her to the ground. Down there they struggled in the dirt and mud, before finally Alasa got her arms behind her and held her there-

"Let me GO-"

"Calm down, Diane, for the love of the Divines! We don't have time for this!"

"You didn't see what he DID-"

The struggle continued, to the point that both Sampson and Gortul both had to get involved. All the while, the Direwolf had moved slightly from his position next to the door, to standing in front of it as he watched the scuffle, eyebrow raised ever slightly when, finally, Diane had ceased her attempts at yanking herself away from three other Sentinels at once. The King, meanwhile, slowly looked away, before repeating his order:

"Mount up! We can't stay here any longer!"

The water mage gave a snort when Dalious addressed Godfrey on the matter of still being alive. Somewhere in the back of her mind she mumbled about not letting their token alchemist die that easily but the thought was stopped quickly as the scenario changed rather quickly.

Stark simply observed as her teacher grabbed the man by the ankle and took him into the store. She had a feeling she knew what about to happen, Cyril entering and the screaming leaking out making it clear she was right. The young woman moved to Godfrey's side with a small smile, "He is right. Come on Ser Godfrey." Stark quietly said as she moved to the back of the line where the cart and her horse still waited.

Her hand gently touched the muzzle of the beast as they waited a moment or five longer. Her stomach twisted as Diane was more than eager to heal the people they had not all out decimated. She couldn't help but down cast her eyes- closing them as Diane screamed at them.

She didn't need to be told twice to mount up-gripping the reins tight before casting a look to Godfrey with a nod as she waited for him to mount up and get moving.

Everything happened quickly. He'd watched the Paladin drag the man, heard the torturous sounds, had seen Diane storm out, had heard the orders to leave. He wasn't really one to follow orders, but the urgency with which Cyril had spat those last words impressed upon him the sense that there was something wrong-- more wrong than he'd thought. He swung himself up onto his horse, kicked with his heels lightly.

After a short, awkward, and tense silence, Godfrey straightened his collar, dusted off his breeches. "Are we going to talk about what just happened there? Why we left the wounded behind and fled like something else was coming? Why the villagers, without provocation, besieged us? Why we didn't even take time to make sure that our party was uninjured before leaving?" He looked down at his shin, imagined the bruise that was darkening.

He could not shake the feeling that he'd made a mistake, getting in with this group.

It was hard for Dalious to watch the sentinels take to Diane, even though he followed the king's commands, he still saw her point. As Alasa and the others calmed her down through physicality, he couldn't help but cringe to himself. He ignored all around him, mounting his horse next to obey the order to move out.

He trailed behind Godfrey and Stark, hearing the questions and confusion pour from his mouth. He sympathized with his feelings, but he tried to stay as professional as possible about the subject matter.

"Best to just, move along," the pirate told him. "Save your energy for what comes next. It will probably get much worse, by the end of all things."

The squabble down in the muck finally came to a close, Sampson and Gortul being the first the stand before up Alasa went, standing with Diane. The latter two were practically covered in filth, and for a second they stood there, all together, before the archer slowly released the healer and the woman went to her horse without a word. As the other Sentinels prepared, the archer yanked himself up onto his own horse, one that he quickly brought to the King's side.

"What the hell is going on here?"

For a moment Cyril didn't say anything, and then even as he tugged the reins he quietly said, "They've been Remade. All of them."

Alasa swore loudly.

[The Darklight Project]

To the Strange Tower

Before the Wanderer was content to leave the cavern that had been tragically ruined, he warned the three who traveled with him to be prepared on their departure, thinking to those bandits (or soldiers?) that they had seen on their way in. However, when they exited they found only an abandoned village in front of them, save for the corpses that had been left stuck and hanging above. Apparently, Alexai's departure had also meant the departure of all of those lower peons; the realization made Joachim relax some, but only slightly.

They did not travel far that day. Instead, Joachim turned his efforts to the dismantling of those grim sentinels all around the village, cutting and pulling them down and burying them with the pick and shovel he found. It was long, difficult work, but still the Wanderer took the time to give the dead a proper burial. Joachim's mind seemed to be elsewhere, and he did not wish to travel so far in such a state. And so, after finishing his work he led them a fair distance away from the village, before picking the first clearing they came across to settle down.

He didn't seem to sleep that night, instead keeping close to the fire with a blanket wrapped around him, keeping the flames from fading. Next to him, the bag that he had picked up at the start of the trip held close to him constantly.

To the east, a storm roared.

With the rising of the sun he did the same, finally snuffing out the fire and leading them once again. As they traveled the forest around them changed; the trees grew wide and tall, cluttering together thickly in an impossible sort of way. The path that the Wanderer led them through required them to squeeze in between those trees, the air around them darkened by the canopy up above and was sticky with dew.

Especially for the horse this path was especially difficult, and yet the Wanderer continued on. He did not quite have an answer for why he was so insistent on travelling through such a difficult patch, such an old area that seemed to be beyond any form of society...

But he couldn't help but feel like he was following soft, distant humming.

And then, suddenly, the tree line broke. Out they emerged into a clearing, where the sun gently shined down from up above. Filled with long grasses and flowers that drifted softly in the wind, animals of all kinds lingered; not just birds, rabbits, and deer, but foxes, wolves, and bears as well all lingered among one another. At the sudden intrusion of the travelers, the most they were given were lazy, uninterested glances.

And in the center of this all was a great tower. Made of black stone, it matched the height of the trees all around the clearing with ease, leaving a great shadow across the meadow behind it. There was just a single entrance, a simple doorway directly in front of them, and there were no windows to speak of across the entire structure; just smooth stone that seemed to eat up light greedily rather than reflecting it away.

It was a sight that the Wanderer had never seen before, and he slowly came to the stop a few steps into the meadow. For a moment everything was just completely silent, peaceful...

"Oh my stars, it's been awhile since I've been here!"

Joachim suddenly straightened all the way up, eyebrows rising in alarm. Instinctively, he prepared to throw himself to the side, but he wasn't nearly quick enough to outrun the arms of the Lady of the Abyss herself.

Of course, there was no way to tell just where she had come from, when all she had to do was slip out of a tear from the Void. There was no telling just how long she had been there, so quietly and subtly she had slipped herself into the party until the moment came for her to speak. What mattered though was that Ambrosia was there, positively suffocating Joachim as she swayed back and forth with her hug, happily humming to herself.

It almost seemed like the poor man was as close to dying as he had ever been.

It was a long, long few days. Distant to the group, Remy kept to himself, skittish, a little irritable. Whenever a body was near, he wanted nothing to do with it. Noble of you, he'd say with a sneer, flask in hand. Real' fucking neato. It was a piss-off, Kaishu thought, but nonetheless, she ignored him. She helped the Wanderer bury the dead with no complaint, wishing silently that she had incense on her person, or even some flowers not caked in blood or trampled upon. The prodigy had nothing but silent sentiment, and prayers said behind the backs of her reluctant companions.

After they moved on, though, there was nothing to be said. There was only silence while, in their travels, Remy would yammer on about this and that. She understood it - using mania to fill the silence. Sometimes, he could be a decent person, which is maybe why someone like him could ever hold such an esteemed position in such a massive militaristic force.

There was almost too much to think about. Like Joachim, Kaishu didn't sleep, kept awake by the glow of the moon above them and the thoughts bouncing around in her head and her heart.

Kyora.

Even thinking about the country made her every nerve jitter in anticipation for some long-forgotten reason. She couldn't stop thinking about it.

Their next destination's scenery wasn't exactly enough to break the anxious train running amok inside of Kaishu's head. She stepped past rabbits and faun, looking up at the tower as it came into view. Another distant memory.

"Ugh! Fucking rodents! Fuck off!"

Idiot. Huffing, Kaishu peeked back over her shoulder to watch Remy struggle with the animals that seemed to gravitate towards him with little avail. "Could you pipe down? Ne, ne, you're going to wake the fucking dead -"

Almost as if on cue, the familiar voice that rung out made Kaishu's entire body bristle, hand grabbing onto the hilt of the blade at her hip and drawing it. The black metal shone in the sunlight peeking through the trees, but upon turning and seeing the unfortunate smothering of Joachim, her stance loosened, body going cold all at once. Familiar.

Too much familiarity at once. With her fingers still gripping the hilt of that radiating blade, Kaishu stared at the Lady of the Abyss with a skittish, uncomfortable sort of stare. Owlish, like a newborn child seeing their parent for the first time.

" . . . "

Not knowing what to say, Kaishu let herself get lost in the swell, feeling both like crying and throwing up at the same time.

Nia, quick of wit and silver of tongue, made up for young woman's silence, elegantly summing up all of her thoughts on the mysterious woman ambushing the Wanderer by giving a shriek of surprise followed by a jump back, her hands held up as if she was about to box the Lady of the Abyss.

Her hand lowered once she realized that the stranger was just hugging, not choking, Joachim. Still, Nia couldn't help but be alarmed as she killed the conjured embers in her hand by smothering them against her legs. Nia was an excellent infiltrator, and therefore she was also excellent at realizing when someone or something was sneaking up on her. However, she had not detected anything until the moment the lady had spoken. It was as if the lady had materialized out of the air itself, which wasn't really an impossibility. Nia's eyes thinned as she looked over the woman, her brow knitting as she felt herself hit by an overwhelming feeling of familiarity. Had they met before? Nia felt as if she would not have forgotten someone who looked like this woman, yet she still couldn't shake the feeling.

Whatever. It didn't matter. What mattered was them getting to Kyora, and fast. They had already wasted enough time as it was with burying the bodies of the slaughtered villagers. Nia thought it would've been simpler just to ignore it all and leave them for the birds. She had even thought, once it had become clear that Joachim was going to cut down each and every single one, that perhaps she could just summon a great, raging inferno and burn the whole damn place down in one massive communal cremation. However, she decided against it. She did not know how the Wanderer, or their two new companions, would react to such a suggestion, and she rather not rub any of them the wrong way yet, but she did not go out of her way to volunteer in anyway with the burial (although she did not refuse to help either).

Anyway, this hug was going on for too long.

"Pardon me," said Nia, raising up a finger as she stepped forward. "Would you mind letting my friend come up for air? He's already purple enough as is."

It was the words of Nia that grabbed the attention of the Lady of the Abyss, not the hiss of a drawn blade. Blinking, she slowly looked over to the H'kelan woman, seemingly confused by what was said before she looked down to the man in her arms; indeed, from what little she could see of his forehead, the skin of his face was starting to turn purple and he had gone utterly limp, his struggles having weakened to just a simple palming of his hands against her side.

With a noise that could only be described as a sort of surprised squeak, she released the man, and the Wanderer crumpled to the ground. There he remained perfectly still for just a moment, before he sharply gasped, taking in sweet, sweet air that smelled of lavender. Satisfied with the depth of Joachim's breath, she turned to face Nia more fully, with a smile upon her face; her arm swung around, settling her parasol on her shoulder even as she opened it in the same movement.

"Oh, thank you for stopping me there, my dear Ms. Nia! Sometimes I just forget myself in my excitement, perhaps you know how it is...

Her voice trailed off as she looked over to the rest of the small party. At the sight of Remigia she perked up slightly, and it seemed like she very much wanted to say something- perhaps something deeply personal that was better left unsaid, but possibly for the good of everyone the Lady of the Abyss instead became distracted by the sight of Kaishu. However, her eyes remained on Kaishu for just a moment, before it went to the drawn blade, and then the Divine's lips popped into a little 'o' with a silent gasp, her purple eyes going big and round.

For a moment she stood like that, without a word, before she suddenly turned and hid her head from them with her parasol. Her foot tapped, agitated, her gaze instead on the structure in front of them all. Next to her, the Wanderer shakily got to his feet, both hands on his knees as he continued to gasp. That all came to a stop, though, when the Divine spoke.

"You've made some friends, haven't you my dear?"

"Uhhhh..." He drew out the syllable, taking the moment to straighten before he continued with, "Yes, he supposes he has."

"Good, good. You need plenty of friends." For another moment she stood there, completely silent as even her foot came to a stop... And, quite suddenly, she was all smiles again, looking over her shoulder as she beamed. "Well, what are we waiting for?! I haven't been here in so long, so let's explore!"

Without waiting for a response, down she suddenly went, disappearing through the tear that appeared beneath her feet and sealed up just as quickly. In front of them, at the entrance to the tower, she once again appeared, the split this time appearing higher up in the air; from it her upper half dropped down, her hanging upside down and beckoning them with both hands.

Slowly, Joachim looked to those who had chosen to travel with him. He seemed sheepish, and said, "If you wish to stay outside, for... whatever reason, he understands. But he..." He shrugged, and then began to make his way forwards.

"...is not leaving her behind," said Nia, finishing his sentence as she rushed forward so that she could stay abreast with Joachim. The teleporting woman had caught her interest after she had dropped Nia's name, her own personal curiosity overriding her obligations to Ennis. Besides, besides, sticking with Joachim was still the best way to get an audience with Cyril, and Remy and Kaishu also seemed to have a connection to the Barcean King as well. It would be a downright foolish act to head out to Kyora alone, or so she told herself. In reality, she was most likely just forgetting herself in her own excitement.

"What are you two waiting for, a personal invitation?" asked Nia, spinning around to wave Kaishu and Remy on without stopping. She managed to avoid tripping as she spun back around, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

There was a lot going on. Standing there with flask in hand, Remy guzzled down whatever contents were inside before pulling his lips away. He couldn't really place the sudden, ebbing discomfort he felt when Kaishu drew her weapon. He was right about prepared to pull the chain again, but... instead, he fixated on the scene with a little bit of a sneer. Especially when he met the gaze of the Lady of the Abyss, his lips pulled further into a displeased sort of expression.

Instead of replying with a witty line, though, he just took another drink, ignoring the look. It had been a wild couple of days - he wasn't feeling very peppy for a few reasons. The little purple fucker seemed to know this crazy chick, so there wasn't anything he could really complain about. On top of that, the kid seemed fixated on the woman like she was a long-lost friend, or something.

Bunch of fucking freaks, he thought, shaking his head and shoving on Kaishu's back. She stumbled forth, snapping out of her daze and fixating a glare on the soldier before sheathing her blade. "You heard the lady. Get." Finally grinning again, Remy started sauntering past Kaishu, going to fall into step beside Nia instead, pocketing his hands.

Behind them, Kaishu's hooded eyes looked exhausted and faraway, but she reluctantly followed them along, hands disappearing beneath her cloak once more.

With everyone set on coming along, the Divine waited until they were all reasonably close before she turned with the tear. Slipping into the open entrance, the group saw how there was no foyer or stairs upwards; instead, the stairs led down. Floating along with her tear that strange Divine suddenly turned sideways, parallel to the ground, and outstretched her hands-

Screaming with delight, her tear suddenly zipped off down the staircase, following the wall and quickly curving out of sight. Even as the noise of Ambrosia's amusement began to echo off the walls, the Wanderer stepped in and began to make his way down.

Down, down, down. Down they went, seconds soon stretching into minutes. At first they had descended into the deep dark, feeling their way along carefully, but just before they lost the last fragment of light a torch flared into existence, somewhere farther down the spiraling staircase. They soon passed by the fixture where it was welded into the wall with no visible mechanism for lighting it, and once more they proceeded past and nearly beyond the light before, once more, another torch burst into light farther down. This pattern continued, time and time again.

Deeper still they traveled. Around them the staircase was cold, yet dry. They passed no doors, no diversions from the staircase, only the continued movement down. Off the walls every so often the wavering echo of the Divine's delight would bounce past, but it was becoming more and more faint, possibly drowned out by the pressure building in their ears.

And then, suddenly, it all came to an end: the staircase, Ambrosia's cries of laughter, the darkness. Twin torches burst into flame in front of them at the bottom of the stair, revealing tall, deeply black doors the stretched high in front of them, two stories at the very least. Slowly they opened in front of the group, swinging inward and allowing them through.

The underground cathedral stretched higher than even the doors, with a vaulted ceiling. Despite the dozens of torches that obediently lit up along the walls, the true height of the place couldn't quite be seen. Several rows of pews stretched from doors to the opposite end, where the floor was raised up a level and seven pulpits were set at even distances across. Dust covered everything thickly.

Books were scattered everywhere, in some places coating the floor and others all piled on top of one another. Behind the pulpits was a shrine, covered in gold and purple cloth, and upon it something glowed deeply black tinged purple. As the Wanderer took a single step into the place, the Divine's giggle could be heard though it came from both nowhere and everywhere at once; it echoed all around, faint in one moment and close in the next, and with it the glow intensified briefly.

Slowly, the Wanderer continued forwards, his gaze only briefly passing around before he focused on what was ahead. His pace eventually quickened, as the object came into clearer view: a curved, sheathed blade. It was surrounded by beautiful stones, gold, offerings of faded and yet not dead flowers; it was the only thing that wasn't covered with dust.

When he took the first step onto the raised floor, the glow, which at the point had reached almost terrifying heights, suddenly stopped. This gave him pause briefly, but he went forwards once again, stopping in front of the blade. His hand went out, briefly pausing, but soon he gently touched it-

And then, back at the entrance the doors shut heavily, a long, wide tear appearing in the ground as massive and twisted grey arm emerged from it suddenly, pews nearby sent to dash to pieces against the wall.

"What a freaky place..." Remy commented the further they traveled. Kaishu couldn't help but agree, but it wasn't creepy to her in the same way it may have been creepy to the warden.

The prodigy sort of figured it may be like that for the Wanderer, too. The dark around them felt like a warm embrace rather than a cold phantasm. It was a feeling unlike any other, for her. A comfort she's never quite known... ever. She walked with a vibrant awareness to the path, keeping her hands by her sides while her feet did the tracking. The sound of Ambrosia's laughter helped, she supposed, but it was a noise she wished she didn't have to hear. It was tauntingly familiar, a turning in her stomach she couldn't get rid of.

The cathedral brought a similar feeling. The overarching ceiling, the pews in ordered lines like soldiers settled in waiting. A somber air that churches always held - she heard Remy comment how much he hated cathedrals, how the ones at home wigged him out, too. She agreed with that much. The feeling of divine providence hanging over her shoulders made her spine tingle.

Kaishu's ill feelings melted into alertness the moment the arm burst from the ground. Wood chips bypassing her, she drew her blade, twirling it in her hand as it gleamed in the dark, the abyssally black metal humming in excitement.

"What the fuck?!" Remy shouted, stumbling back from where the tear had opened just by his feet. Kaishu scoffed.

"Ambrosia..."

Crazy old woman.

"Maybe you should put it back," said Nia, her voice lined with worry before arriving at a quick crescendo as she flinched as splinters of wood pelted against her. She knew that she should've hightailed it out of this place the moment it had turned into nothing but mad laughter and flickering lights. She didn't even bother drawing her dagger, doubting that if she even had an opportunity to defend herself that the small blade would be completely useless against the tumorous arm. A flicker came to life in her right hand as she cradled a fireball, not yet ready to start throwing flames all about quiet yet. There was plenty of kindling around if she needed it, but with the only entrance blocked starting a bonfire would be a good way to crisp up her new companions and, more importantly, asphyxiate herself.

"Really, any ideas now would be appreciated," she added, taking a few steps back.

Joachim remained perfectly silent, his spine slowly straightening as the thing continued to emerge. The arm lunged forwards, gripping into the ground, fingers clawing down through the spread books to slowly but surely lift; the creature that emerged from the hole certainly belonged to the arm. Twisted and grey, the skin hung from what seemed to be the twisted imitation of a man, though it had no eyelids and four extra eyes, with just the one arm.

On its shoulder sat the Lady of the Abyss, her hum somehow audible above the movements and grumblings of the creature as it gnashed its teeth. The foulness of the thing in comparison to her was almost absurd, and yet she seemed as pleased as could be sitting on its shoulder, her hand stretched out to rest on what seemed to be its warped cheekbone.

"What is the meaning of this, Lady Ambrosia?" Joachim spoke quite calmly, but there was an undeniable tension in his voice that was paralleled by the tension in his shoulders. Giggling, the Lady snapped her parasol open, setting it on her shoulder and giving it a spin-

"Oh, I just wanted to give you a partner to play with! A little... pick-me-up! You seem very, very down."

"He... appreciates the sentiment, but he doesn't think it is a good idea."

"Oh well! It's too late now, isn't it? So come on, play a little!"

Even as she spoke the thing was beginning to lean forwards, hand stretching out as its mouth opened with its yellow, split teeth and it began a low, drawn out groan that sent the walls about them trembling-

When the Wanderer moved, it was so quickly that it was difficult to say. Suddenly he whirled, and in that same movement he drew the blade, his eyes widened; in the next moment he was a blur and then across the space, standing up against the closed doors behind the creature. Suddenly, the room had become much colder, as if a chill wind had passed through.

The Phantasm glowed as if with a soft, purple fire; along the edges of his clothes and hair he seemed to be burning away into swirls of purple embers. Across the floor his footsteps could be seen, but not as imprints in the dirt; instead, the dust flared up with little curves of purple flames that danced in place with a vibrant speed. In either direction the dust was still flowing away from where his path had taken him, and his arm was stretched out with the blade held behind him; it was black and purple, its definition difficult to perceive, as if staring into a deep hole.

Even as Joachim began to fall from his position back towards the ground, the creature reeled back as its arm split from its hand all the way up to its shoulder. Thick, deeply blue blood splattered floor, walls and ceiling as it fell backwards, its low moan suddenly ascending to a shriek as, with a yelp of surprise, Ambrosia fell from its shoulder. Briefly it thrashed back and forth, the two halves of a limb flailing pathetically, before it quickly began to retract back down into the tear, disappearing.

Crawling to the edge of the tear, the Lady gripped it with both hands as she peered over the edge, down into the depths.

"Oh my Divinity- you completely butchered poor Gary!"

Where he was straightening, Joachim winced slightly to himself. "He... apologizes?"

"Oh, don't worry about it; he'll recover, and he was getting too big for his britches anyway- trying to take up all my time, not letting me take care of any of my other pets! Serves him right, really..."

"He wasn't worried about it!" shouted Nia, her arms out wide, wisps of smoke still streaming from her hands. The woman would not admit it, but she was impressed by how quickly Joachim had taken care of the Divine's creature. She had heard about him in hushed whispers among those in H'kela, but she had assumed that they had been embellished as all stories regarding feats of strength were. She made a mental note not to cross him, doubting that her fire was faster (and her fire was fast). Really, what she had seen, or rather what she hadn't seen, was hard to believe. It was almost as unbelievable as the strange woman being Ambrosia. Nia had always expected the Divines to be a little less, well, ridiculous. Being all powerful must've been dreadfully boring.

"It's fitting that this is Barcea's Patron. No wonder they're so successful," said Nia, calm enough to return to keeping her tongue firmly planted in cheek. She took a few tentative steps towards the closed door, taking some effort to avoid stepping in any of the gore. "Danmun always seemed so stuffy, but considering the alternative I think I lucked out," she muttered beneath her breath as she bypassed Ambrosia on her way to Joachim's side. It wouldn't do her any good if her guide had winded himself. She had already wasted enough time as it was by letting herself get distracted; she could almost kick herself for not having pulled the others away from this little sideshow. She leaned forward and craned her neck up at the Wanderer as if she was appraising him for sale.

"Are you oka—you smell like sulfur," she said, screwing up her face as she flitted away.

Remy wasn't really one for all this Divine garbage. The pull of the Abyss was a little too disorienting, and he wasn't sure what kind of crazy bitch it took to unleash a massive Hell monster in an enclosed space just for funsies. "Oh, yeah," He commented at Nia with a sneer, jamming his blade back into its sheath. "Just so successful with a crazy witch at the helm of all belief. Right?"

Grinning, the Commander looked over at Kaishu as if for confirmation, but paused. "... Kid?"

In the height of all the excitement and the glow of Abyss and grandeur, he hadn't really been paying attention to his companion. Just to the heat in his chest, the anticipation of a long battle that actually seemed to be quite short - maybe he had been wrong to do so.

Kaishu's eyes were fixated on her hand, owlish, her browned cheeks a little more pale than normal. Her mouth was moving in silent words, a way Remy recognized with a sickening sort of feeling - like that time in the arena, when everything turned over on its head. He knew better than to try and touch someone going into psychotic catatonia, but still, he tried to reach out.

"Hey, kid..."

Before he could lay a hand on her, her body pitched into a hunch, starting to rack with coughing so bad the Commander was sure her esophagus would turn inside out. Her blade dug into the ground as she dropped to her knees, coughing harder with each breath before finally retching up a dark, blackish-purple substance that seeped through her fingers and onto the ground, burning little holes into the stone and faded carpet of the cathedral's aisle. And still, she coughed on, shoulders shaking as Remy knelt down with a hand on her back, trying to steady her.

"Lords above... Hey, hey, canteen. Water. Anyone got one?"

Joachim had seemed initially surprised at Nia's reaction; and then he realized that bits of him were lit with flame, and with a close-mouthed shriek he began to rapidly pat himself out, even as Ambrosia leaned over to pinch out one tuft of his hair between two of her fingers. Surprisingly, no damage was left behind on

In the moments before Kaishu fell, Ambrosia was as happy as could be. The sarcasm was palpable in both of those who spoke, and yet she seemed to take them as full-fledged compliments, bringing both of her hands up to squish both of her own cheeks together, swaying back and forth as she giggled away. However, Kaishu's coughing attack brought a change over the moment entirely.

The Wanderer moved, his hand going to pull for his water skin even as he moved; however, he soon found himself being sent off to the side slightly, his water skin gone. Like a ghost Ambrosia slipped past Nia and then swept Kaishu away from Remy, both the H'kelan and the Bellamy suddenly but softly forced back, as if the very world had turned them away.

Gently, Ambrosia brought Kaishu upright, one hand settled on her back while the one with the water skin did the raising at the level of the woman's collarbone. From there, she gently raised the water to Kaishu's lips, tilting it back only slightly, so the water would just slowly pass Kaishu's lips.

"Shhh, shhh, child, it's alright. Drink."

Remy watched (concerned, admittedly, not that he'd ever admit it) as the water flowed down Kaishu's throat. The coughing subsided, but by the time the water skin left her mouth, she still didn't look quite all there. Her eyes were lines with exhaustion, and even a hint of frustration. Remy could tell the latter very easy as she suddenly ripped away from Ambrosia's grasp, grabbing the hilt of her curved blade and ripping it from the ground as she began storming her way out of the cathedral and back up the twisting stairs.

Fucking brat...! A bead of sweat rolled down Remy's cheek and he bared his teeth a little before relaxing his mouth.

"Kids these days, huh?" He lifted his arms in a shrug, nudging the closest person to him - Nia - with his elbow with another grin.

"Can't blame her for not wanting to be smothered," said Nia playfully, rubbing her arm where Remy had elbowed her. "Or drowned, rather."

The woman in black sighed as she recalled how dark the stairwell was, and she took off swiftly after the younger lady, slowing only to shoot a deliberate look of disapproval towards the Divine. The air above her hand ignited like a torch as she reached the stair, bathing the black stairs with a soft, orange glow. Nia quickened her pace so that she would catch up with Kaishu, lest the girl stumble in the dark and fall upon her own sword. She had managed to only ruin a little bit of the carpet with whatever it was that she had coughed up; it'd be just dreadful is she wrecked even more. Nia smirked. How interesting Joachim's "guests" had turned out to be.

Ambrosia had simply beamed back at Nia, before looking back to Joachim. Her smile softened, her just looking upon him as he shifted uncomfortably, looking away. Finally, she reached forwards, giving him a light pat upon the head.

"Go on, my dear. You still have a way to go."

"He thanks you for this kindness." With that, he gave a nod towards the exit at Remy, before quickly making his way towards the stairs with the new blade at his side, sheathed next to his broken one.

---

Kyora

They arrived with the setting sun, finally looking down upon the city that sparkled like a many-faceted jewel on the water line. Kyora was massive, easily even bigger than the Capitol was if the docks were included. With mountains just to the north of the city in less than a half days’ worth of travel away, Kyora was set on the inner curve of a crescent in the land, with the curved arms creating a lake of saltwater immediately next to the city before it suddenly gave way into the greater ocean. The docks were set on both sides of those arms, and boats and ships could be spotted both within the salt lake and the ocean beyond.

A great wall protected the city's western side (as the east gave way immediately to the docks and water), and all of the roads from the north, south, west, and east led to the single greatest gate, often passing with bridges of stone that allowed crossing over the web way of creeks and small rivers that carved through the land. Farms were stretched over the fertile ground surrounding the waterways, those closest dedicated to rice and those farther keeping to livestock and other forms of produce.

Despite the way the sun had already bled deeply into the sky, they were not the only ones eager to enter the city before nightfall. Merchants, other travelers, and those who worked outside the walls but lived within all clamored to squeeze their way through the gates. All around them, everyone was talking, a mixture of accents from seemingly all nations blurring together; snippets of the clear Barcean, gruff Guratan, and smooth H'kelan could all be caught at random intervals, but there were even more, less familiar as well: perfectly articulated Jasian accents (with the rare cases of Old Jasian speech) were spoken within feet of both the Kisokan and Cantian languages all at once.

No two people were dressed alike as well. Here and there bits of light Barcean clothing were spotted right next to thick Guratan fur, and H'kelan robes were not far behind. More likely than not it was some mixture of different pieces of attire brought together as necessary, unlike in any way that they had seen before.

It was amazing how, not so long ago, Barcea and H'kela had been at each other’s throats for lifetimes, and yet here both cultures thrived side by side. The power of relentlessly enforced neutrality, with the income to back it up, didn't seem like it should be underestimated.

Within, even the architecture was just as blurred, buildings varying wildly in heights and design from place to place. The streets remained full of people, with peddlers shouting their wares from the side and innkeepers trying to draw those needing a place to stay to the warm beds up above. The more they went in, the more travelers and the like stepped aside out of the street in order to partake.

The Wanderer, however, did not glance to any of the inviting buildings built for food and rest, no matter how much any in his party may have wanted to finally stop walking at that point. Instead, he continued to lead them farther and farther into the city, which had the benefit of making it eventually easier to move; considering the nature of the city-state, they were not even stared at as outsiders, their makeshift party making it seem even more like that they belonged.

Eventually, the Wanderer suddenly picked a side road to turn onto, leading them a short distance down it. The building they stopped in front of them was surprisingly small, especially in comparison to some of the other inns they had passed; it was two stories in height and would barely fit all of the Sentinels and their company if rooms were shared, and the stable would barely fit three horses. Mercifully, it was empty.

A simple wooden sign above the door was painted with these words in black: The Hermit's Abode.

"This is it. We will be staying here." He opened the door, the entranceway just a tiny square that had a doorway to the left and stairs opposite the front door, Joachim turning to stay on that first floor. The common room was as small as expected, and quite dark; only a few candles were here and there, one of which was in front of a woman who sat in one of the booths, entertaining herself by blowing at the black lock of hair that fell from her part at her forehead.

Quite suddenly, however, she stood up upon seeing them. Her eyes widened, almost boggling, as it seemed like she at first didn't believe they were there and then had to convince herself that they were not ghosts. When the moment passed, however, she suddenly beamed, cheeks glowing red with her smile as she rapidly smoothed out her apron and made sure her hair, cut into a bob, was in order-

"Jeremy, get up! Up, we have guests!"

"Wuzzat?" A muffled voice came from somewhere behind the bar, followed by a sort of scuffling shift, but the woman was walking straight towards those that had just entered. Her excitement was filling the room, and she seemed to be almost vibrating as she bowed to each of them in turn.

"Welcome to the Hermit's Abode! Please, have a seat anywhere you like- oh, dear, wait a second!" She suddenly turned, and very quickly began to use one candle to light up all of the other candles throughout the common room, quickly spreading light with her. The last place she went to was the fireplace, where after a moment of struggle she suddenly got the fire going, pulling back just in time to keep from lighting herself on fire.

She rushed back towards the group, and as she did so an older looking man, perhaps fifty or so, with charcoal grey hair and tired eyes had risen from behind the bar, yawning as he did so. However, he nearly jumped out of his skin when the woman suddenly called:

"VI, HINERI! HURRY HERE, WE HAVE GUESTS! ACTUAL GUESTS!"

Slowly, the Wanderer began to tense.

The rest of the journey to Kyora had Kaishu a little more at ease from before. She was happy to be moving again, satiated by the sweet smell of the sea. Like home, she thoughts, before immediately regretting the decision. This place was familiar, bringing up waves of nausea and pleasant nostalgia again. She forced it down as best as she could, shaking herself a little to make the feeling scatter. It was a little easier with Remy rambling on as they hit the streets. He was excited about the change in scenery, but it made him jumpy. Mania-ridden and loud, he bounced from stall to stall, pining over all the food he never reached for.

"Just get something to eat... you're so annoying..." Kaishu muttered at one point, quickly dismissed by the Commander.

"Savin' my appetite for something more tasty, sugar." His snicker sealed the deal on the matter, and Kaishu didn't push it any further.

It was nice, Kaishu could at least admit. The deeper they walked, the more the nausea passed, drifting her into a gentle reverie instead. Though... there was an intense sort of pressure she could feel building on her shoulders. Her anxiety starting to spike, she stared up at the sign of the Hermit's Abode with a look of mild distress and almost regret. A terrible feeling... an omen... Lagging behind, she took her time to enter, keeping in the back of the pack and looking around, skittish and a little paranoid. She barely paid attention to the hostess as she greeted them, focusing instead on the sudden click-clacking of wooden sandals on the hard wood upstairs. Even before she announced the name, the source of the frantic running (and distant yelling) started getting closer.

It started as a din of an excited scream, followed by the sound of something breaking. "Joooo...."

Another crash could be heard, a woman coming tumbling down the stairs, a flurry of pinks and oranges. "AAAAAAAAACHIIIIIIIIM!!" With a strange sort of coordinated finesse at the end of her fall, the woman extended her arms as she hit the middle of the group, locking onto Joachim's neck with her arms and sending them crashing back to the entrance of the inn. The woman herself had soft brown hair, her robes very Kisokan in nature, a spattering of pink and orange, orange coming from the flowers embroidered upon the fabric. She was a smaller woman, but certainly a bit rounder. Kaishu gingerly picked up one of the chunky wooden sandals that flew off her feet, dangling it by the rope of the toes.

"Hineri..."

The rabbit hole just kept getting deeper.

Of course Hineri's loud voice and practical running across the Inn could be heard as they'd collided with the shorter man.

Vi came down the stairs at a slower pace and a pleasant smile upon her features as she remained quiet for the moment. She was a bit taller than her louder counterpart just a few inches shy of six foot. Her clothing was something of a hybrid of robes and a dress. Fitted at the top to flow out as it reached the floor. The high neck accentuating her elegant features. Black hair with light skin, almond shaped wicked blue eyes behind white framed glasses.

A twist of her lips could be seen as she approached the pair on the floor before flickering her eyes upwards to the rest of the party, "Pardon the noise, guests. Welcome to the Hermit's Abode. I am your hostess-Vi. THe young lady over there is Sam, the man behind the counter is Jeremy and this lovely lady is Hineri-though I do suspect at least some of the party already knows this?" She lightly mused with a thin arc of her brow. "I am here to answer any requests or questions you may have. How many rooms will this party need for their stay with us?" Her voice was smooth and unfazed with a plain as day Jasian accent.

"You have more than one?" asked Nia in a mix of disbelief and disenchantment, her eyes searching the common room for some elegance that was not there. It wasn't the worst place she had ever been in, truth be told, but after passing all of the other lavish and elegant places to stay it was rather disheartening to find herself in a place like this. It was odd how she didn't dislike roughing it in nature, there was something therapeutic about it, but once back in civilization she quickly recalled how much she missed comfort and luxury (and how desperate she was in need of a hot bath, a mirror, and some fresh clothes). She had a word for a place like this: antiquated, if she was being kind, or shabby, if she was being honest. She ran a gloved finger over the counter in inspection, wrinkling her nose as she rubbed the invisible grime back and forth between her forefinger and thumb, her head nodding in confirmation of the worst.

"I suppose it is too late to find anywhere else," she said more to herself, brushing her hand off on Remy's shoulder. "I'd prefer to have one for myself, if I must be honest. I fear if I shared one with Joachim it would just end with me not being able to get a wink of sleep as an endless parade of girls throw themselves upon him." She smirked, her moment of snootiness subsiding as she stepped over to the Wanderer and bent over, the poor man still be smothered by Hineri. "This is...what, the third time this has happened since we've started? I've seen you move enough to know that you're getting tackled on purpose."

"More importantly," said Nia, straightening her back as she turned on her heel towards Vi and clapped her hands together, "do you have a bath? Also, after I freshen I wouldn't mind dining on something light, and I'd gladly take a fine bottle of wine to share with my friends. Oh, and none of you happen to be musicians, perhaps? Some entertainment with our dinner would be greatly appreciated." She paused, cocking her head to the side. "All of this is doable, yes?"

The moment before impact, Joachim reacted instinctively by loosening his own muscles, seemingly to deflate in preparation. He did not attempt to dodge or duck, simply waiting for what seemed to be his inevitable death; with the way his body just immediately gave away beneath the momentum of the woman he certainly seemed more like a rag doll than a human being.

The crash was loud, and shook the entire building briefly. Beneath the woman, the Wanderer could only be described as out of commission- his eyes were practically swirling as his head limply rolled back and forth, stunned beyond function. For the next several moments he remained like that, but just after Nia finished speaking he rapidly shook his head, eventually reaching down and patting Hineri's head gently, smiling a little.

From there, he began to stand, which was a difficult enough process with Hineri hanging from him, and yet somehow he managed it. Grunting, he rubbed the back of his head, before he said, "Rather than the rest of all that, or rather just before it, it is most important to him that he speaks to the Master of the establishment as soon as possible. It is extremely, extremely important, in fact."

At this request, in the background Jeremy paled and slowly slid down out of sight behind the bar, while Sam's smile took a sort of stunned note. When she spoke next, she managed to stammer out, "W-Well that's not necessary, you kn-know? We can h-handle whatever request you m-might have-"

Smiling gently, the Wanderer gave a shake of his head slightly. "Please, do not be worried. He already knows him, and how he can be."

"... Oh."

As the atmosphere in the room changed, Remy had shifted interest (very rapidly) to Nia, snickering a little at the brush of his shoulder. "Whaaat, I'm not an option for ya, sweetcakes? I think I get it, though..." He hums, rocking back and forth on his boots. "I could go for a bath. A real bubbly one... With like, little bonbons." He wiggles his hand at Nia to indicate the size, looking already lost in the thought of chocolate.

Still distracted by the way Joachim was completely knocked out by Hineri almost, Kaishu finally snapped to around when Vi appeared on the stairs. All of a sudden, the flood of occupants in the vicinity was making her skin crawl. She dropped the sandal, shrinking back into the group a little and leaning back on the wall, bundled in her cloak as she made herself scarce. She was only glad Hineri hadn't noticed her off the bat. Instead, the woman scrambled to cling onto the man's back, curling her legs around him and rubbing her cheek against his head fondly. "Jo~a~chimmmm~ You're b~ack~"

Blissful, she continued her little song before the mention of the inn's Master. Eyes snapping open, an alarmed look came over her, signaled especially by the change of her pupils into little, lime-green exclamation points. ".... Kuuuuuuuu... Please... Have mercy, Joachim... Hineri is already wobbly enough..."

"I 'on't get the big deal." Remy said, scratching the inside of his ear with a gloved pinkie. "What's up with the fear factor racing up because of this 'Master' guy?"

Kaishu didn't say anything back, still keeping her presence scarce... but her presence just grew thinner at the mention, her eyes flicking to the side while she pressed her face into a grimace. Still time to regret all of this and escape...

Vi's face remained warm and pleasantly smiling as several requests were made. They may be a touch difficult to do but nothing she wouldn't be able to handle. She'd turned her attention fully away from Hineri seeming to backpack on the shorter man's bdy and focused, instead, on the rest of the party," Your requests are able to be fufilled I simply ask for just a small amount of time to get everything fully prepared." Her eyes closed behind her lids in another smile-only for it to disappear into a thin line a flash of a moment later. Her attention left the rest of the party to focus in on the other, much bigger, issue that has just arose.

Vi's eyes stared directly at the man called Joachim as she took a position before him, looking down at the shorter man with a neutral expression; though her voice remained pleasant enough. "The Inn Master is currently away and may not be back for quite some time. May I ask your relation to him so that we can better assist you?" Her words were kind but the hard look of her eyes was not.

This certainly was unexpected.

Nia shot Remy a sympathetic look. At least she wasn't the only one in the dark; she absolutely hated being excluded from secrets.

"Hi, yes, sorry, question," said Nia, standing on her tiptoes while simultaneously pushing down Joachim's head so she could peek over it from behind, her other hand raised like a child in class. "So since it seems like he's going to stand between me and my bath, could somebody at least fill in the peanut gallery on who the Master," she said the name with a tone mocking the gravitas it apparently warranted, "actually is?"

Nia stepped to the side, letting the Wanderer have a moment where he wasn't being physically abused by someone, and shrugged her shoulders. "Like, what's all the fuss about? He just owns an inn, right?"

Up above, a door slammed.

Joachim flinched ever slightly, even as the steps of whoever was on the second floor began slowly walking towards the stairs. "He does more than simply own an inn. He did not own it when he, as in this one, last spent time with him... Perhaps it was the best cover he was able to pick at the moment. But that's an aside."

The steps had reached the stairs, and they began to squeal in protest beneath the weight of what they carried. Slowly, the Wanderer began to turn, with his eyes shut. "The Master is the Master and always has been. But perhaps, most importantly at the moment..."

"I was this idiot's Master." Without opening his eyes, Joachim reached up and slowly pulled Hineri's arms from him, making the woman drop down and away from him. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and then looked up to the eyes of the man who stared down at him.

The man positively filled the space. Kisarin seemed normal in comparison; this man was gigantic. Despite his size he was properly proportioned, nothing seeming too big or too small, no awkwardness to the eye. In fact, the man could have easily been described as beautiful; there was an other-worldliness in the glow of his skin, and his hair was long enough to reach down his back, smooth as silk.

He positively radiated power, both in appearance and aura. He looked like he could have bent steel with ease, or simply tear through it with his bare hands. His very presence forced the air from the room, and the breath from their lungs. Each word spoken caused the wood around them to creak. In his hand he held a large cup, filled with some form of alcohol; it was so intense that they could easily smell it, even when he had just entered the room.

"So you're back."

"Yes..."

For a moment, the two stood in silence, staring at one another. Suddenly the dish was raised high, faster than a blink-

The Wanderer simply shut his eyes.

The dish was brought crashing down on his head, shattering, shards flying every which direction. Limply Joachim went down, falling to his knees with his head bowed; the Master's hand went out to side with the continuation of the movement, sending the cloak around him fluttering almost angrily.

"So, after fifteen years, you decide to return. Return, mind you, after leaving like a fool. I warned you that you were not prepared, and that if you left you would only find misery for years. And what is it you're dealing with now? Some half dead thing from the past? You were not prepared there, and froze. Now, countless are dead because of your failures." The Master turned, and began to step back towards the stairs. "Get out of here, be gone. You have no friends here."

"That may be the case..." The Master paused, slowly looking back to Joachim as he began to stand, shakily. "But his Master certainly is. And if he does not gain the help of his Master, then even more will die."

"You made your bed, boy. Now lie in it."

"He will lie in the bed he made for himself. He will not make others lie in it."

The palpable shift of atmosphere had Hineri climbing off of Joachim's back before he even needed to move her. Her pupils twisted normally until the massive man reached the bottom of the stairs - nay, even the middle of the stairs seemed too much for the small woman to parse. Her pupils turned to spirals, and she wobbled off to the side, finding the nearest potted plant to pitch over and vomit into.

And while she suffered just a little, Remy seemed to be having the time of his life. His lips were stretched into a wide and toothy grin, one of his elbows resting on Nia's shoulder as he leaned there, fingers folded in delight. The rising fear and intense discomfort over the room was mind-numbing, and he was kind of loving it. The beating on Joachim seemed to only amp that excitement up. The Commander nudged Nia a little, giving her a bit of a rouse to the woman's shoulder. "Are you seein' this?" He muttered, snickering a little with a fist up to block his mouth a little. His snickering only grew a little, Remy having to hunch a little to try and calm the rising shake of his shoulders. For whatever reason 0 he thought this was hilarious.

By this point, Hineri was trying to recover enough to go to Joachim's side, but as soon as she put herself on a vertical axis, she was back over into the pot, throwing up again. Kaishu didn't seem to mind much, even being stood beside the woman. Instead, she seemed a little distracted, fixated on the scene. Her body shuddered, as though snapping out of some daze she was in. Lifting her arms, she crossed them over her chest, gloved fingers fidgeting and tip-tapping against her arms. Shutting her eyes, the princess shook her head, now.

"We don't have much time to be debating this. It's either help, or don't. It won't be long until we're racing into combat. This doesn't only affect us, no - rather, the destruction will spread here, too, if he fails. If we fail." Peeking open her eyes, hooded as always and keen on the Master. "Even if you were to put an end to Yaguar, there will be casualties. He'll be sure of that. Some Master you'll be if you allow that to happen."

With the scene happening before tham- Vi seemed to be one of the few who wasn't visibly shaking at the entrances of The Master. Aside from the twisted frown on her lips as she kept to the edges of the group and moved between the bar, grabbing a cloth and water, before going to Hineri's side with the items in offering.

She kept her mouth shut up until Kaishu began to speak. Vi spoke to the rest of Joachim's group with a level gaze, "I would advise you think your words a bit more before addressing The Master like that. He will not hesitate to do to you what he just did to him." Nodding towards Joachim on the floor.

Nia stood in silence, her hand over her open mouth as she watched the scene unfold in front of her. It would be wrong to say she was shocked or disgusted, but rather, like Remy, she was just soaking in the schadenfreude. However, she was more focused on the girl losing her lunch than the Wanderer getting beaned again. She took back every ill thing she had thought about this inn and tabled every demand she had made; being witness to this moment was more than enough. "I can't look away," she muttered back to Remy, barely succeeding at holding back her own chuckles. It'd be unbecoming to appear to take too much delight.

She bit down on her knuckle and looked away until everything was stifled, following the nod from Vi to Joachim. She grimaced. Perhaps she had grown fond of the Wanderer, or perhaps it was guilt for laughing at him—Remy's influence and nothing else, she told herself—but she felt obligated to help him. She brushed free of the Commander and took a confident stride over to Joachim, although she looked at no one else but the Master. She didn't really care about what Vi had said, even if it had been intended as a warning instead of a threat, since the woman had no doubt that she would be fine. It was nothing other than pure cockiness, but there was enough fuel around for Nia to make the Master instantly regret any actions he might take. He wasn't the only one who wouldn't hesitate.

"Now, now," said Nia to the Master, producing a handkerchief for Joachim to wipe the blood off of his face as he got up, "was that really necessary? If you want us to go, then we will go. It's your inn, after all, and it's in your right to pick and choose your guests. C'mon, Joachim. There's really no point in arguing, is there? Let's go."

Nia started to head to the door, but stopped in her tracks. She put a finger to her chin and cocked her head, as if she had suddenly realized something very important. "It's just really going to be a such damn shame," she said, the condescension thick in her voice. "When word gets out, I mean. I can hardly imagine the awful things they will say once this idiot fails," she jerked her thumb back towards Joachim and continued, "after all, the student's only as good as the teacher. Oh, although, I'm sure there would be some who would argue that the student was better this time, because while they might be an idiot at least they weren't a coward."

"Well! On the bright side, all of the rumors would at least finally put this quaint inn in the spotlight; absolutely everybody would know about it. Not a bad business move, I suppose, assuming there's anything left after all is said and done," she added, turning back towards the Master with a shit-eating grin on her face. She could only make it clearer that she was willing to expose the Master's location if she spelled it out for him. Now, she just had to hope that what Joachim said about him using the inn as cover meant that the Master did not want to be found. That, or that he was a man of pride and wouldn't be able to stand having his name tarnished.

"Unless..." she drew the word out, keeping her eyes peeled for any flying dishes.

The Wanderer was standing fully once again, but it was clearly he was barely holding on; there was a tremble in his legs as they wobbled and threatened to give away at any moment, so bad that he moved the sheath that held his old, broken blade from his side to in front of him, using it as a crutch for support with both hands. Though others were speaking around him, his gaze remained on the Master, unflinching.

In return, the Master's gaze matched his, even as Kaishu appealed to simple reason, and Nia resorted to a threat against his secrecy. Once again they stood there in silence, the Wanderer's gaze pleading and yet firm, while the Master's expression was one of borderline contempt-

When he looked to Kaishu finally, it became one of utter irritation. "You. One time around wasn't enough, was it? Still have more mistakes to make?" One hand went out then, empty, as he said, "Talbot, one of the newer bottles. The cheap stuff."

He then slowly looked over to Nia, and that was when utter contempt entered his gaze. "You're as stupid as you look if you think I'm frightened by your threats. I have lingered here since the Creation, have been a part of the cities that have risen and fallen here until, finally, Kyora was brought into being; some cocky little shit from H'kela who can toss a little fire won't be the reason why I'm finally revealed." His other hand went out, and once again he spoke to Vi, saying, "The biggest bottle, Talbot. I don't care what it is."

The Wanderer took one shaky step forwards, and immediately the Master's piercing, purple-black gaze snapped back to the much smaller man. Joachim slowly straightened, his shoulders no longer slouching and him using the sheath less as he struggled to stand on his own two feet.

"Tomorrow, the King of Barcea will be arriving with his companions. He wished to be finished with this affair before then, but he has been delayed so much that, inevitably, they too will become a part of this. He does not ask for himself, but for the King; finish his training, so that he might better help the King."

Slowly, the Master's gaze narrowed, a look coming over his face as if he had smelled something foul. "The King of Barcea, eh? The one currently wielding the Gift in a proper way? Of course he would be getting involved." Where he held his hands out still, the Master's fingers slowly curled into fists. For a moment, it looked like he was preparing to bludgeon Joachim to death.

And then, quite suddenly he crossed his arms, the movement so swift that it caused his cloak to billow outwards, before it settled around his arms once again. "Very well then, this is what's going to happen: You lot will stay here for the night quietly. Tomorrow, when the King and his little entourage arrive, we're going to chat," Here the Master shuddered, as if disgusted with his own idea, "and I'm going to see if your words hold any weight. If they don't, then I'll put you down like the mistake you tried so hard to prove yourself to be."

Slowly, the Wanderer nodded. He did not ask what would happen if things went in his own favor, and only said, "Thank you, Master."

The Master was already turning on his heel, but had enough time to make the roll of his eyes quite apparent. "Don't thank me yet. Your fate hinges on mortals, of all things; you're probably as good as dead."

About halfway up the stair, they heard him call, "If I hear any damned music I'm bringing this place down on all of your heads."

Vi had to literally bite her bottom lip to prevent herself from sighing disapprovingly at the antics that The Master was progressing towards. As she had turned her back to go behind the bar she couldn't help but roll her eyes at his order to bring him a new bottle. She had been reaching for some of the dustier bottles that no one touched before pausing and watching the scene unfold further-still quiet. Even as The Master told her to bring him an even bigger bottle she watched-trying her hardest to avoid the oncoming smile on her face as she looked from The Wanderer to The Master and back to The Wanderer once more. The day was just getting more and more interesting by the word.

She took this time to look back over the group as part of her mind wondered if they were going to have enough rooms to accommodate everyone. She was sure with a bit of creative cooking and time management she could get everything ready in time.

As her mind wandered she was already making her way towards Joachim with a cloth and a small container of medical supplies. "I've never seen someone survive a hit that hard." She passively said as she began organizing the supplies. "Since you are staying with us tonight, how many will be arriving tomorrow? I'd like to have everything stocked in the event The Master relents and aids you." Vi was speaking as though the man she called her boss hadn't just threatened bodily harm to the man she was about to give first-aid to.

Meanwhile, Nia was busy trying to cool her head, telling herself things like, 'only an idiot would call me stupid' while simultaneously visualizing just what a little bit of fire chucked behind the bar would do. Nia knew that even if the Master was too cheap to stock the strong stuff and too lazy to replace the likely wet and molded wood she could still prove him wrong. All it would take was a flick of the wrist and this place would go up like an oil-soaked rag, lighting up the night for all of those around to join. Of course, she knew she couldn't do that; no need to upset Joachim yet, especially after he mentioned that they were to rendezvous with the King here. Still, it was a therapeutic thought, even if it didn't stop her from opening her mouth.

"That guy's a total jerk! Just because your old doesn't mean you have the right to be a total sourpuss," said Nia, flopping on a bench near Joachim. Her voice shifted once again into a nasally, mocking tone as her face scrunched up. "Nyah, I'm older than cities, look at me, blah, make your bed, you cocky little shit," her voice fell into her normal tone, "I'll cocky little shit you." She folded her arms over her chest and slouched. "What a prick."

"But you're fine," she hurriedly said with a wave of her hand once she noticed that Vi was still around, before quietly adding, "so, uh, that bath situation? How's that looking?"

With all this commotion, Remy couldn't help but nearly laugh himself into a coma. His hands rubbed at his cheeks, pulled at his bottom eyelids, tried to massage the smile from his visage as best as he could. He tried to no avail, and ended up biting into his fist while stifling what laughter he could. The Commander's muffled snickers and nasally chortling died off as the Master retreated upstairs, shoulders still shaking with delight. Through the verbal beating laid out in front of him, he remained relaxed and leaned on the wall with arms crossed. Carefree. The only time he moved was to stop Kaishu from moving. After the comment from the Master, the only thing that could be used to describe the prodigy in that moment was... enraged, perhaps. Maybe even visceral. Quickly, she'd begun to step forward to follow the man up the stairs, but Remy was quick to slap his hands onto her cloaked shoulders, giving her a tug back even as she tried to wiggle away.

"Pick your fights, mausebär. This isn't one you're going to want to fight, huh?"

Begrudgingly, Kaishu let up, wrenching away from Remy with a huff. With a mutter under her breath in Cantian, she very quickly turned heel to storm into the dining hall, away from the group and instead to find a table to do what Remy could only assume, with his knowledge of the teenage mind, was brood.

Hineri, in the meantime, was happy to finally stop vomiting enough to wipe off her mouth and rinse it with the water Vi provided her. Leaning on the taller woman, she still looked a bit ill, her pupils wide and seeming to turn in little rotations, albeit slowly. "Hineri feels... as though she is dying..." Which... maybe wasn't too far off the mark. When she finally recovered, she straightened up, finally not needing to use Vi as a post for her balance. Her face was knit into a deep frown, watching the Master ascend back into the rooms above, before it finally lit up in a smile. Addressing Nia this time, she tucked her hands back into her sleeves.

"Hineri will draw you a bath right away, Miss. You still have time, Hineri thinks, before you... are once more stuffed into a close space with that man..." The thought made her spine tingle with pure, unadulterated terror. Her face very briefly turned terrified again before she perked up once more. "She can show you to a room... with the nicest bathroom, too." She added this final part with a playful whisper and a wink. As much as she wanted to go to Joachim, work sadly came first.

Meanwhile, the Wanderer had given a light shake of his head, looking over to Vi and what she carried. He relaxed a little, before beginning to count to himself, soon resorting to his fingers as his eyes seemed to glaze over briefly. When he finally spoke, he said uncertainly, "He believes... nearly twenty will be coming. He cannot be certain, simply because his comrades are the type to... recruit, as they go along. It will be quite crowded."

And, with that, he drew the small packaged he had been carrying with him closer to himself, giving just one glance outside.

[Sol Grim]

After they left the Remade village, Cyril led them forward until after the sun had fallen, and their horses had begun to stumble against unseen rocks and pits in the ground. In the dark they dismounted, and for awhile they struggled into Alasa had gathered enough to create a small fire. Suddenly, the darkness was forced to flee back into shadows as they stood there on the side of the road.

"Get as much rest as you can." Cyril ordered, pulling his own pack from his steed. "Alasa, you're on first watch with Sampson. Make sure nothing sneaks up on us in the night."

The sky was clear up above, and the ground dry beneath them. It was a perfect night to sleep out under the stars, picturesque even... And yet after what had just happened, what they had just seen and dealt with destroyed whatever peace there might have been. Diane, still splattered with mud, gave just a single glare in the direction of both Cyril and the Paladin before she set her own roll out upon the ground. The Sentinels stepped gingerly around her, in order not to set her off.

Alasa sat himself in one direction on the road, while Sampson sat on the other side of the camp. Gortul sat down, beginning to sharpen his axe, and Kisarin joined him, cleaning the bits of gore and coating of blood from his own blade. Alsius stood a little away from the spot picked as the camp for the group, a cigarette already smoking away. The Paladin, meanwhile, simply knelt by himself, and began to pray, even as Cyril sat down by himself and began to think.

Cyril did not consider himself to be any better than anyone else, especially when it came to unpleasant deeds. He had first wounded a man severely when he was fifteen, and then the next year he had ended up killing someone. Since then, try as he might to avoid it, every so often he had ended up killing a bandit; when the war had broken out, he had killed plenty as well.

Sometimes it kept him up, but he always fell back on how it had been necessary. It had been necessary to kill the bandits to keep himself and his friends alive. It had been necessary to kill the H'kelans for the same reasons. Gartian was a requirement simply because the man wouldn't have given up until dead.

Seeing torture like that was a different matter entirely. He still felt sick to his stomach. Perhaps there had been no way around it either; the entire village had been Remade, beyond helping, but there was a difference between killing in self-defense and interrogation...

Slowly, he shook his head. It was the first time he had ever seen any number of Remade, and he didn't want to see one ever see again. Their drive, their fanaticism, it was something beyond mere mortals could do; and the way that the man had instantly gone from weeping to singing praises, even as the nails within him began to burn that was completely, utterly unnatural.

The Gifted had fought against that for years during their war. What had they had to do in order to survive? In order to be able to function? How had they gathered the resolve they needed to do that time, and time again.

How could Yaguar, a man who had fought against those who could Remake, fall to using it himself, nevermind how was he able to do it in the first place?

He brought both of his hands together, interlocking his fingers as he stared towards the fire. He felt sick, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Stark and Damon

Through the quiet travels leaving the Remade village Stark absently chewed on the inside of her cheek-deep in thought. So many questions were whirling in her head-this information was bad news. From the few stories Alice had told her during their starting travels- The Gifted, like Ser Joachim were the ones who fought against the Remade...the people like in that village and eventually the people who MADE the Remade. How did they even do such a thing? Why do such a thing?

What would happen if this power was unleashed again? Stark knew very little, outside of the verbal story telling she had heard from Alice and some of the stories she had been able to read in texts in the library, about details of the last time something like this had happened.

Her thoughts were snapped in half as Alasa lit a fire and Cyril gave them all orders to rest. Stark felt her eyes follow Damon to where he went off to pray.

She began to chew on her cheek again, now raw and bleeding, as she thought back to what had even happened inside of the village. What her teacher had done. She had nothing but pure adoration of the man and trusted him with every fiber of her being but she wasn’t quite able to understand just what he had done. Whatever he had specifically done was brutal- the noises they had all heard had been testimony to that- and had infuriated Diane at the sight of it. She glanced at the woman, feeling her shoulders sag at the emotions written all over her face, as she finished setting up her own space on the edge of the fire light before pausing and glancing over at Damon once more.

She steeled herself as she squared her shoulders and crossed the camp to where Damon prayed. Stark took a knee, clasping her hands together as she quietly spoke prayers of her own.

The Paladin’s prayers continued on, unaffected by Stark’s presence. The man just continued his murmurs:

”... let Silvae forgive me, even as I depend upon Danmun’s strength; let Yumio understand, even as I seek for Azim’s blessing…”

In a cycle he went around, pleading one Divine’s forgiveness while asking support from the next; he continued even after all Seven had been exhausted, so that in turn each Divine had been both asked for forgiveness and assistance for what was to come. Only then did he finally open his eyes, relaxing ever slightly, as he brought one hand up to push his glasses up his nose slightly.

”Ye have questions, dear child?”

Stark prayers had been shorter- her kind scarcely able to put forth the focus to ask for guidance and to give her strength.

She’d stilled when her teacher finally finished and addressed her. She was quiet for a moment longer before simply asking, ”What happened? What did you do?” there was no accusatory tone to her voice or any kind of negativity. Simply the desire to understand.

”What I had to do.” The Paladin spoke simply, continuing, ”I nailed him to the wall to keep him still, to prevent him both from attacking me and possibly ending his own life. I was prepared to do more as necessary, but the King’s presence forced my hand to become even heavier, to reveal his condition.” He did not ask for understanding, or forgiveness.

Stark swallowed hard as she listened to Damon explain what he did. She, of course, had killed people and done terrible things but that was in battle. That was in war. This...this was done after the fighting had finished. ”Do you regret it? What you did to that man? Was there No other way to prove to His Highness about that man’s state?”

”I cannot regret what I did. It was what was necessary; the fact that they were not screaming Yaguar’s praises while in combat proves that they were prepared to go to the grave with their secret. Only through pain could I force them to the point of despair where they would call upon their perceived savior.”

”Perceived savior…” Stark quietly echoed back before adjusting and facing Damon fully. ”If we can kill Yaguar will the Remade go back to the way they were? If there are others, I mean. Will they go back to their own mind and body and sense and never have to endure such pain again?”

He shook his head. ”There is no guarantee. Some will immediately descend into madness, and kill each other. Some will fall into the deepest depression, and end their own lives. Some will never be the same again, shattered fragments of a person. Very few, if any, will become what they once were.”

She couldn't help the hand that covered her mouth or the fear and disgust flash across her face.”So being remade takes away everything that makes someone human...it turns them into a doll…” It was the easiest way for her mind to process everything before more questions came. ”If that is what happens to them then it was a mercy killing back in the village. What we did. It was out of mercy.” Of course she understood it was to protect themselves but before she could vocalize that another, much darker thought, bubbled up.

”Mister Dubois...if one of us is somehow remade...what will you do?” she knew what the answer would be but she needed to hear it.

”Put ye down as swiftly as I can.”

Her throat tightened once more and she felt pinpricks in her eyes- blinking away the tears threatening to fall with sheer will power. ”How can one avoid being Remade? Not all of us are Gifted…” Despite the set of her brow and the strength of her will her voice still shook.

Slowly, Damon shrugged. ”I do not know how Yaguar sets out Remaking yet. All I can suggest is to avoid being caught.”

Fear was crawling up her spine now. ”We’re going to lose people aren't we…” It wasn't a question. Stark closed her eyes for another moment before giving a half bow to Damon- a habit she still has yet to break. ”Thank you Teacher. If you’ll excuse me.”

”I wish I had something more pleasant that I could tell ye. But I will not lie to ye.” He nodded deeply.

”The day you lie to me is the day the world ends.” She quietly said over her shoulder as continued back towards her resting spot;hands in fists to hide the shaking and a sad smile on her lips.

Stark and Godfrey

Godfrey’s kettle bubbled on the tiny burner, the merry and diminutive rumbling of the water boiling contrasted with the stunned, sickened silence that surrounded it. The king had called for rest, but after having experienced that surprise attack, Godfrey wasn’t exactly up on resting just so much. Instead, next to his kettle, he’d set up the apparatus he’d used to make the enhancement concoction for the Pirate, and busied himself with preparing the ingredients to make some more of it.

Formulae flashed through his mind, and he set out several vaguely-labeled flasks and bottles on the flat workspace that his cart provided.

Silently, he looked over the group, counted how many there were, and then looked back down at his supplies. Maybe he’d have enough to make a dose for each person, if he was stringent and didn’t waste anything. He sighed, rubbed his head.

Stark had quietly sat down and observed Godfrey- though not really paying attention to his actions. The quiet of the night and the silence of the group was driving her insane as her own thoughts just echoed louder and louder. ”What are You creating Ser?” she quietly asked with a tilt of her head.

He regarded her, and a vision of Stark, but faster and stronger, danced across his eyes. “This,” he said with a bit of vocal flourish, “is a concoction that increases the amount of information you can intake during a fight, effectively making you faster than everyone else.” He let a little bit of pride slip through his words, despite the general malaise that the party suffered. So long as someone was watching, he would definitely have a bit more energy.

“It increases production of adrenaline, and opens up the receptors for that adrenaline, so that the world effectively slows down around you…” he began, and rattled off for a good fifteen seconds about this effect and that function. “Truly,” he said, and held up a flask which had just finished distilling, “better than magic.” He turned, and grinned a half-grin at Stark.

“This is the same infusion that I gave to the pirate, who repaid me with such wonderful face markings as I still have. You can ask him if you don’t believe me!”

Lighten the mood a little, maybe that will help raise the spirits.

Stark tried to give at least a smile as Godfrey explained what he was making. ”I dont doubt you See Godfrey. If his Highness believes you enough to bring you with us then I don't doubt your creation. Does it work with all kinds of people or strictly non magic users?”

That question brought him to a dead stop.

“I’ve never even thought about that. Stark, you brilliant thing, I’ve never tested it on a magician before, and I would never have even thought about it! This is why I keep you around,” he said, and pulled a sheaf of paper from a portfolio in the cart. The papers were covered in scribbles and formulae, but he found the one he was looking for with no effort.

“...I don’t see why it wouldn’t work, but I have no idea if magical residue in the body will change the effects. I’ll have to run tests-- and that would have to be separate tests for those with inherent magical abilities, those with acquired abilities, and those with abilities granted by the Divines…” He trailed off for a moment, then looked back at Stark.

“You brilliant girl!”

Stark couldn't help but tilt her head curiously as Godfrey praised her. Such an odd thing to say to someone just asking questions. She pulled her knees in towards her chest and hugged her knees as she followed his train of thought. ”I think a good person to test would be on Miss Leon- er. Alice. She doesn't have strong magical presence but she is able to spell her sight when she is using her weapons. She might help you. Maybe Christopher? He is a half Divine and so is Ser Drosil Detail and Shadar. They might give you different results.” Stark paused and chewed on her cheek again before swallowing and speaking against, ”I can offer my own services as well. I was born is above average sight and hearing due to my bloodline so that would give off results…” She flushed before adding quickly, ”I think! I'm not sure though. Uh, I just was thinking aloud. I'm sorry. “

He scribbled down the names she’d mentioned. “Tonight’s not the night to start these tests, no. Nobody would be in the right mindset for it. Nobody but me, that is, ha ha…”

There was a brief pause, and suddenly, he straightened up, and tucked the papers back into their place. “I, uh… I got a little excited. My apologies,” he said. “I’m not a mad scientist, despite being both a scientist and what others might call mad now and again.”

He leaned back on the cart. “What’s this about a bloodline--” he started, but just then, the kettle whistled right next to him, and he jumped with a start. “Ye Divines!” he cursed, and put his hand on his chest, taking a breath.

“...it seems tea is up, if you’d like a cup?” he said, and, with another deep breath, shut off the tiny burner and picked up the kettle.

Godfrey was such an odd man but Stark couldn't help but chuckle under her breath as he gave apology. ”No need to apologize Ser. No harm done.”

Never had Stark been so thankful for a kettle to scream, though she winced at the noise, than in that moment. She pushed away the anxiety building inside as Godfrey offered a cup of tea. ”Yes please.”

She perked up after a moment before twisting around and pulling her pack closer to her body- flipping back the top flap and pulling out various items. A book of the Divines, bundles of first aid supplies. A water skin. ”Aha! she exclaimed as she pulled out a simple silver tin.

She replaced the things in her bag before popping the tin with a smile. Inside was a sizable bundle of dried meat and a cloth around a bundle. She undid the bundle to reveal cookies; vibrantly colored for some. Others had cute designs. There were one or two plain looking ones as well. ”A friend of mine at the castle made these for me. He said they were called sugar cookies. I hadn't had a chance to try them before we had to leave. Think it'll taste good with tea?” Stark looked up at him with a smile in her offering.

“You’ve never had sugar cookies before? Oh man, strap yourself in, this is going to be a ride for you,” he said, and put a pinch full of dried, dark leaves into the scalding water. He set a teacup and, lacking another one, a round glass flask next to the kettle, and bustled in his things to see if he’d brought any cream.

“Depending on where you get them,” he started, “they are called different things. They are primarily butter and flour, with sugar to sweeten the deal. My manservant used to have them brought in from all over the world-- there’s such a dearth of variety! Lavender, nuts, thyme… Of course, I’m terrible at baking, despite it really just being another chemical reaction based on applying heat to a mixture.”

As he spoke, he poured the tea into the cup and flask, and handed the cup to Stark. “Do you know how much further it is before we get where we are going? I kind of wasn’t really paying much attention.” Truthfully, he liked being around Stark, even if the situation wasn’t the best.

Stark shook her head, ”Mistress never liked my Lady having sweets and that rule extended to the rest of the house. I recently discovered that cakes can actually be different flavors other than vanilla. I got a stomach ache from eating too many flavors too fast.” She mused quietly as she watch Godfrey work with the herbs.

She nodded in understanding about the not cooking. ”When Miss Alice found me she did all the cooking after I burned a hole through her cooking pot in our travels. I just gather the food and she cooks it. The cooks at the castle don't let me cook either. Not after I burned salad once.” Stark smiled into the back of her hand before she grabbed one of the cookies with a cute design and bit into it. She positively melted as she tasted the baked good.

”It's so gooooood.” she quietly stated as she took smaller bites- as though saving it and savoring the flavor. The water mage corrected herself and lowered the cookie before wiping away crumbs, ”I believe we should be arriving into Kyora tomorrow. Perhaps midday or so
“ Looking around camp she sighed, ”Don't expect to be there long Ser. It's not a time for dilly dallying unfortunately. It may be best if we are constantly on our toes.”

He nodded, sipped his tea. “I am only here because I am on my toes all the time, I suppose. Being doctor, chemist, and prescriptionist is a lot of work.” And poisoner, and delivery boy, and gravedigger, and…

At least it was quiet. For now. Who knows what kind of trouble they would meet with when they actually reached the city? And what would happen thereafter? It was in Godfrey’s best interests to not be left behind or killed, so he resolved to be at least useful enough to be considered worth keeping around until this whole thing blew over. He looked at the rapier and pistol hanging from the belt on the cart, and rolled his eyes slightly.

“Truthfully, Stark, I’m not the best person to have in a fight. I’m kind of cowardly, and not very great at anything but a gentleman’s duel. The king appointed me with some fancy title because I was useful once, minorly. I’m not really sure why I didn’t just tell His Majesty that I could not possibly leave my shop…”

Stark finished off her cookie and was already going for another one but fell short as Godfrey spoke. ”No one expects you to fight Ser. I mean no insult but we all knew you were joining us as an alchemist- not a fighter like near all of us. With that aside we will all do what we can to protect our own.”

’Put ye down as swiftly as I can.’

She visibly flinched as Damon’s words echoed through her head- playing it off as a cough into her hand. ”Do you think perhaps you didn't tell him that because you subconsciously wanted to go?” The girl could be thought provoking...sometimes.

“What? Divines, no, this is a nightmare. You think I’d hang around the king on purpose? In my line of work?” he said, and then blinked hard. “I mean, being a chemist and all that.” His eyes landed briefly on the small, nondescript case strapped to the front of the cart.

“No, adventure is not my style. I like things to be self-contained, easy to study, easy to execute. Travelling wasn’t really something I did as a kid, either-- My, uh, good father preferred I stay on manor grounds for the most part.” He decanted another vial of the concoction, and then sipped his tea again.

“Why are you part of this… this whole thing?” he asked back.

”I don't really see what being a chemist has to do with not being around a King but I’ll trust your judgement.” She cool stated before sipping on her tea as he continued to speak before pausing at the question directed towards her being there.

Stark slowly lowered the tea and looked down at the cup in her hands, ”I didn't have anywhere else to go…” She couldn't tell him she had a bounty on her head from Jasi- it would scare him off. So she kept it vague.

”I was forced to flee my home in Jasi and ended up here. Miss Alice saved my life and we traveled together. We traveled to Gurata at one point and came across his Highness when he was still a Prince and the Sentinels and Alice asked to join them. I didn't want to be alone so I went with them.” There was a heavy pause before she continued with a slight smile, ”I honestly hadn’t expected to stay here this long but everyone here accepted me and welcomed me and didn’t see me as the servant i used to be. They saw me as their equal and...I just couldn’t leave that.” Her ever reflective eyes scanned over their campsite before looking to Godfrey, ”The longer you stay with us the more at home you’ll feel. I promise.” It was such an innocent heart filled statement.

Godfrey leaned back, let that idea sink into his mind. “Hopefully we will be able to ‘be at home’ in better circumstances than an active murder investigation and subsequent surprise attack by people dispossessed of their humanity sooner than later.” He rubbed the bruise on his knee tenderly. “I mean, I like a good friendly duel as much as the next guy, but that was a little overboard, don’t you think?”

Overhead, the sky was dark but clear. Godfrey looked up at it absently. “In the end, everyone’s pretty equal. Some people have better genes or are smarter or are stronger or whatever, some people are resistant to diseases or poisons, some people are great at solving puzzles and mysteries, some people can throw around mumbo-jumbo primordial energies like it’s a toy. Everyone’s good at something, I guess. Who’s to say what things are more important than others?”

He paused for a second, then grinned slightly. “Well, besides me.”

”With the villagers being Remades,” Stark put and extra emphasis on the ending word, ”What would have happened to them if we hadn't killed them would have been cruel. There is no fixing a Remade person Godfrey. Killing them breaks the strings that their controller has. It lets them die as humans- not dolls.” Starks throat had a knot in it before she continued quickly.

”We all may be made the same but society as we know it forces us to be grouped. The haves and have nots. Sadly, this is a world I was forced into. Being a have not made me realize that family isnt sitting under a roof with food maybe available. Its sitting under the stars surrounded by people I trust and care about. Its waking up knowing you're welcome and don't have to look down when passing people in the halls. Having some sort of a home is being happy with those around you is what I'm trying to say I think.”

Stark flicked a crumb at Godfrey, “Oh really now? I would throw the idea that those with the brains and those with the power make the decisions but it seems you think you can fall into those categories.”[/b] Of course she was teasing as she finished off her tea and another cookie.

“Well, of course. I:m both the smartest and the most powerful person around here,” he said, and stretched. “Nobody is smarter than me, ever, anywhere in the world. And the smartest are the most powerful. And the most powerful get to make the rules, no? So the only rule I made is that I get to make the rules. You can be my Chief Baking Advisor.”

The last of the concoction finished distilling, and he decanted it out. All in all, he had eight doses of the adrenaline-boosting, prescience-granting concoction ready for the next incident that would go down.

“You’ll be in charge of making sure nobody has a cookie deficiency in the realm. Think you are up for the task, Chief Baking Advisor?”

Stark couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips as she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees. ”You got it boss!” she cheerfully stated back just before a yawn began to creep up on her.

”How about we start in the morning okay boss? I think it's time for rest.” she offered as she closed her tin of cookies and wiggled into her little sleeping area. ”Don't stay up too late boss. We still have to travel.”

“Tomorrow it is, chief. Get some sleep, I’ll clean this stuff up and follow suit.” As she settled down, he busied himself with washing up the pieces of glassware and putting them away on the cart, before unlatching one of the sides of the cart, which laid out flat just large enough to sleep on, providing he didn’t kick around too much. What happened in the morning would have to wait until the morning-- after today, he was tired too. He rolled onto the surface, and wrapped himself up in his jacket.

Around the fire

Just when Dalious had accepted the fact that he killed so many people in his past, he had to come across and kill four more innocents. They tried to kill him, so he felt justified. However, it was after the matter that he found out they were under some magic. Maybe had he known prior, he might of tried to just knock them out, and the thought of it was eating away at him. He tried to shake it from his mind, drinking more rum to cool his nerves.

Pulling off his leather armor and placing it on the ground, he grabbed one of his canteens and a rag, then started to clean the blood from the sigil carved at the center. He cleaned it even after the mess was gone, trying to keep himself busy until weariness drew over him. Looking to his right, he realized he was sitting next to Diane. While others seemed to avoid her, mainly for her wrath, he decided to give it a shot. He felt a bit of sympathy for the woman after all that had happened lately, and wanted to ease her evening if even slightly.

"Would you like me to clean the mud off of your clothing for you?" he asked. "...I mean, not while you're wearing it of course. Or, not that I mean for you to get naked...I, well you would have to get naked, but...I mean, assuming you could change into something else. Behind a tree or something, I wouldn't look at your nude body...not, not that you don't have a nice body. I would look at your nude body, umm...not without consent, of course..." He realized he was digging the hole deeper, so he turned his attention to the meat cooking over the fire. "Is that done yet!?"

At first, Diane didn't even look over to the pirate, focused entirely upon the fire in front of her as she continued to stew in her own anger. However, as he began to speak and kept at it, embarrassing himself further and further, she began to slowly turn her head towards him. Her expression had settled into something that wasn't quite anger or indifference, but something in between; a cold sort of irritation that seemed unusual for Diane, who was known to be quick to hit things.

When she spoke, her voice was surprisingly calm, all things considered. "No, thank you. I'm not so desperate yet that I need my possessions pawed and myself ogled yet. Perhaps if you had any sense, maybe, but considering that you asked the question at all that clearly isn't the case." Suddenly she stood, picking up her bedroll and dragging it away with her.

Across the fire, Kisarin couldn't help but let out a chuckle. He had finished cleaning his blade by that point, the massive hunk of metal standing where it was stabbed into the ground, and it was he who was cooking the meat. Just a little while before Sampson had slipped into the camp proper with a few dead rabbits, and in a matter of moments Kisarin had them skinned and placed over the fire.

"Didn't go too well, did it my friend?" He shrugged, looking back down to the rabbits. "Give it a couple of minutes and these should be ready, at least. Consolation prize."

Dalious sat next to the fire, watching Diane leave from sight. Everything they said about her was true. He let out a huff, then carefully sniffed at his canteen filled with rum. "That normally isn't how it goes with the ladies, I swear!" he said as if he were defeated in combat. "Someone's tainted my rum." He said with a silent point towards Stark's direction. Drinking liquor while riding a horse all day gave the pirate a steady buzz for the night, along with the muscle cramps to go along with it. "I should have heeded the warnings that are spoken about her. Avoid eye contact, best for everyone."

Dalious shifted his sense of smell toward the preparing food, and it brought a smirk to his face. He almost lost thought as he stared deeply into the crackling fire. It was a soothing method of keeping his mind empty. "Kisarin, I remember you. Heh, from when I was...much younger." Dalious took another swig from his drink and hiccuped. "I was a part of a bad group back then, your men wiped us out. I hid and watched, and I thank you for it. I can now finally see, they were evil men. I almost was. Now we fight together. Funny how things turn out. Anyway, I'll take mine rare, if you don't mind."

With more than just a little amount of interest, the Chieftain listened to what the pirate had to say. The more he spoke, the more a vague sense of recollection began to dawn upon Kisarin's face, memories of long ago coming back somewhat, but not completely; Kisarin was content with them not coming back all the way, and said as much with the following:

"I see, my friend. Well, the past is the past, after all. You survived, and you learned from it. There's no shame in that. Let bygones be bygones, so that we can focus on what's happening now..." Briefly, Kisarin went quiet, a black mood coming over his face, before he shook his head. "Rare it is then, my friend. Now that is a real kind of meat."

With that, he tossed one of the rabbits over.

"Cheers, mate."

Kyora

They left early in the morning, and didn't stop again until they saw the massive, sparkling jewel that was Kyora came into sight. Even Cyril, who had never seen the city-state before, was taken back by the sight, and simply amazed... but the reality of the situation soon set in, and he was the one who pushed them back forward, towards the gates.

At first, they were treated like any other of those clamoring to get into the city... But then Cyril's crown was noticed, as were the Barcean sigils, and in some cases their weapons. The crowd parted for them quite quickly, so that only the guards stood between them and the city streets. Judging from their stances, they seemed to be prepared to stop them, and Cyril tensed, getting ready himself for what might be coming...

But then, quite suddenly, the guard line seemed to melt away, a captain waving them off suddenly. At first, Cyril couldn't tell why, but as the captain stepped out of the way as well he saw Joachim standing there, waiting, and slipping a small money purse back out of sight into his robes. Cyril held back the sigh of relief that wanted to escape, pleased that the Wanderer had been waiting for them; he had no idea how he was going to find Joachim easily in such a large, unfamiliar city.

The group moved forwards, and the Wanderer fell into step beside the King. He also immediately began to speak:

"He is pleased to see all of you made it. He expected some to remain behind, but he is surprised at those who did..."

Cyril glanced back, blinked, and then looked back to Joachim. "Wait, everyone should already be here. A group left with Christopher before we did. They didn't arrive?"

Joachim frowned, and shook his head slightly. "No... perhaps they ran into trouble along the way. There is nothing we can do now, only have faith that they will make it on time..."

The King was silent for a moment, and then said, "There was another problem as well, that we ran into. I'll tell you when we reach.... Where are we heading, exactly?"

Joachim gave a slightly rueful smile. A few minutes later, and they were at the Hermit's Abode, and the King felt some of the first doubt about Joachim he had in this whole affair:

There was no way they were all going to fit inside.

And yet, somehow they did, settling down either in rooms or at tables. Cyril and Joachim found one booth for themselves, and in a matter of moments the King had told the Wanderer what had happened on their travels. Joachim paled, and slowly brought both hands to his head, hunching over slightly.

"He was afraid something like this would be the case. It was Yaguar who slayed the God King Mazami, and when it happened there was... a transference, of some sort. It was only a matter of time before those abilities manifested themselves..." He shook his head slowly. "It is good to know, beforehand. We'll be able to prepare for it."

Slowly, the Wanderer exhaled, and looked up to Cyril after he lowered his hands. "There is something about this place. It is where his Master-"

Up above, a door slammed.

Joachim swallowed. "His Master, who is the Master, currently resides. And he is being difficult for him, as in this one."

The shock of the presence of a Divine wore off more quickly than Cyril would have expected; then again, they had already met one before. "What do you mean-?"

"You didn't tell me the King would be bringing his entire kingdom along with him." The voice boomed across the room, which fell silent. Slowly, the Master walked his way across the room, and stopped next to the King and Wanderer. The King quickly bowed his head, but the Master merely snorted, saying, "Whatever, let's get this over with. If I get what I expect, then I get to kick you out that much sooner. You, King. You realize that your current problem is more than just a little the fault of the idiot who is sitting in front of you, don't you? Then why do you come to help him?"

Cyril blinked rapidly, surprised, and slowly looked up to the Master. For a moment he was quiet, and then, "I do not blame Joachim for the failings of his previous companions. I consider him one of us now, though, and that means we will help him in his time of need, no matter what the reason. Even if Yaguar wasn't threatening the East as we knew it, I would still stand with him now. He wants to resolve this quickly, and with the least amount of bloodshed. I admire that in him."

"The least amount of bloodshed-?!" Suddenly, the Master's hand shot down, and Joachim squawked as he was lifted. There was a brief struggle, before the Wanderer was thrown back down into the seat harshly, and the package that was now in the Master's hands was ripped open by the Divine.

From it fell a surprising amount of weapons, which had been packed tightly together. Two sickles connected by chains were the first to clatter onto the wood, and they were followed by several wicked looking throwing knives. Next came a double bladed dagger, followed by yet another with a prong. A folded spear clattered down, and then finally a chain with both weight and hooked blade fell.

"Those are not normal weapons, King. They are made for maiming and crippling and killing. For shedding blood."

Slowly, the King looked up, but not at the Master; instead, he looked to Joachim, who seemed embarrassed, ashamed, and yet still resolved, meeting the King's gaze with only a little hesitance. For a moment, Cyril was quiet, and then he said, "I think Joachim gathered those with the best intentions. He thought he would be fighting by himself, and was preparing for the worst sort of fight. We're here now, though. He doesn't need those."

Silence reigned for just a few moments... And then the Master scoffed, turning and dropping the torn package carelessly. "Fools, the lot of you. Fine then!" Joachim went rigid at the last two words, which had been barked out like orders. The Master looked over his shoulder. "Tomorrow, I whip you back into shape, boy. Be ready, and hopefully you'll be fast enough to make it back in time to help your friends, before Yaguar gets bored. Be up before dawn."

Without saying anything else, the Master left. For a moment more silence returned, and then Joachim slowly exhaled, bowing his head. "He thanks you, King Serio... And he apologizes."

Cyril shook his head. "Don't worry about it, Joachim. You did what you thought you had to do. Now, you can adjust."

[Atrophy]

Dead Ruins

The night passed in a furious storm until the moment came that the figure rose. It departed in silence, without saying a word of farewell to those either awake or asleep, the only noise being the slightest of hisses of metal upon metal. Soon it was gone, and with it went the storm to the east; by the time morning broke, it was completely clear, though the ground was swamped with mud.

With the sun the moved, and continued on their path north. Christopher's spirits, at least, were higher than when both the storm and the figure had been nearby; with the new day he had new energy, and he was prepared to press forwards. Perhaps time had healed the wounds carved into his psyche by the ruthless Alsius, at least a little, for he was back to being friendly (though he would always remain ill spoken).

His hopes, it seemed, hit their peak when they emerged from the forest on the other side about three fourths through the day. The ruins were there, waiting for them. Despite the constant wear of time and that looters from generations past had long ago picked all of the gold away from the structure, the black stone of the Jasian outpost still stood proudly. The shape of the building was strange, spread out like a spider with its legs flattened, with curved, incomplete arches that jutted towards each other like the ribs of a dragon.

Long ago, this place had been an outpost under the Jasian Emperor of Old's rule, the time of that Tyrant with a Forgotten Name. It had outlasted whatever it had been placed near to watch over, as what glued the stone together was made of sterner stuff than those long decayed cities and peoples, but distance didn't matter; the world had been connected like it never had been since in those days, portals (especially at these outposts) connecting the farthest reaches to each other.

They found the portal after taking the stairs that led to the top of the ruins, beneath those bone-like curves. It stood tall, a framed oval of black stone that was completely, utterly...

"Empty?!" Christopher didn't believe it, even as the word exploded from his mouth. He quickly stepped forwards, at a pace that was just below a run, straight to the dead portal; there was nothing there at all, and when he stuck his arm through it was simply there, the portal not even invisible.

Slowly, he let his arm drop limply to his side, as he looked up to the thing. They had traveled straight north as hard as they could, for the hope of this shortcut. Now Kyora stood to their southwest, over a day of travel away, perhaps two. Even now, the Wanderer may have been arriving at Kyora, Christopher knew; by the time they reached Kyora, it would probably all be over.

The young man paled, his fist clenching at his side. He didn't blame Drosil, no, it would have been stupid to do so; it wasn't like the mage would have predicted that, finally after millennia, the portal had shut down when Christopher happened to need it. And yet Christopher still felt anger, directed at first nothing and then redirected at himself; he shouldn't have tried to take such a risky shortcut, should have just made his way straight there. He might have even caught up to the Wanderer, if he had-

"I need a minute. I'll be right back." He turned, walking towards the left, and calmly dropped from the side back down to the ground. Back towards the forest he walked, his shoulders tensed and his steps stiff, but surprisingly enough he maintained his composure.

He disappeared among the trees, and that was when the yelling began. It was some of the foulest language that any of them had ever heard, expletives thrown with very little else that went on, and on, and on... Crackling briefly filled the air before there was something like a thunderclap, followed by a rumbling as a tree snapped at the base and began to fall, taking out one and then another with it.

Things went quiet after that for a few moments, and then the grey-haired youth emerged from the woods once again. Back to them he walked, taking the stairs up and stopping at the top of them. His hand came up, and he rubbed at his eyes by pressing his fingers against them with a deep force, before he dropped his hand back down once again.

"Alright. We ready to hoof it again? No one needs to take a piss while we're here, right?"

The phrases that passed through Alice's head were amusing to say the least as it seemed their "short cut" was nothing more than a headache. She remained quiet as Drosil's actions failed them and Christopher went off to go throw a tantrum. 'Better there than have him bottle it up.'

However, his rendition of humor (dry as it may be) and disstressed words were not meshing well with her mood as it was quickly going downhill. She pressed a hand gently to the arc way that should have their their quick way through, "So your lack of actual information," she gave a pointed look at Drosil before pointing her less than amused gaze at Christopher's direction, "And your naiivity brought us here. Excellent." The sarcasm was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Since it seems you're donw with your tantrum of brutalizing the poor tree-what do you propose now boss man?Run through the woods again to get slapped by another suit of armor or are we going to actually take the roads this time?" Oh the snark and sass was heavy today.

Joy fixed Christopher with a stern look, her hand propped underneath her chin as she rested. The older woman had taken a seat on the stairs after probing her way about the ruins, seeing if there was perhaps anything that Christopher had missed. As expected, she had found nothing out of the usual. Joy had come across ruins like this in the past; they were always barren, picked over by thieving opportunists decades, if not centuries, ago. She shifted her weight as Alice called out the others for the giant waste of time that this had all been, frown lines forming on her forehead as the gunner shot out venom from her mouth. Joy shook her head. Sarcasm was always so helpful.

"We won't have to worry about that decision until tomorrow," she said matter-of-factly, looking up at the orange and purple sky. They had spent too much time foraging for a shortcut that didn't exist that by now it would be just outright foolhardy to turn back only to make camp a few hours later in the middle of who knows where. At least here they would have some shelter during the dark night. Kyora could wait for another day. She could tell that Christopher was in a rush, but if the broken portal was not clear enough proof that sometimes a bit of patience was necessary than she did not know what would be. "We should make camp before it gets too dark."

An afterthought struck her and she looked to Drosil. She was surprised that she even considered consulting the man. The two hadn't started out on the best of terms—it was hard to forget a first impression when it consisted of someone pointing a gun at you or threatening to sic their man-eating pet on you—and even now their relationship was distant, if even existent. A small part of her would've normally even resented him being here, because if he was here than that meant his giant of a brother was not. Shadar was levelheaded and dependable. He never would've suggested a shortcut in the first place. However, he wasn't here, and here they were. Standing with a grunt, the woman took a step towards Drosil.

"I can't believe I'm going to ask this, but you wouldn't happen to know of any spells that could fix that thing?" she said, jerking her head to the portal.

Even as Christopher tensed slightly, before he ended up relaxing to flip off Alice with a casual sort of flippancy rather than say anything, Drosil slowly looked over to Vesta. With no small amount of irritation he grit his teeth together, before he almost hissed, "If I could, don't you think I would have done it already? But no, I can't. I don't think it's possible, but even so I don't have the power in my current state. Advice was all I was good for, and apparently not even that."

"That's enough of that now." Christopher spoke up then, shaking his head slightly before he directed his thumb over his shoulder. "I've already punched through a few trees, so there's no point getting worked up anymore, because what's the point if I'm not gonna scream and yell too? Speaking of, though, that means there's some ready-made firewood in that direction, so let's get walking."

It was eerie how quickly Christopher had flipped from sheer rage to a calm level-headedness. It seemed unnatural.

"Fine," said Joy, turning her glare away from Drosil as she started to descend the stairs towards Christopher. She stopped after a few feet and turned towards the others, putting a hand on her hip. Somebody had to take control of the situation, and Christopher could hardly even control himself—his suddenly cooling off did not fool her one bit. It was time for them to stop gallivanting off after whims and rumors and to start following logic and reason.

"However, we're making camp here. It won't be very comfortable, but it'll provide us a better protection than down in the forest. Considering what happened to a certain Chieftain the last time one set foot in a forest like this, I think we can all agree that a vantage point is necessary." She folded her arms over her chest, assessing the others with a look of appraisal. A sharp tone of command entered her otherwise tired sounding voice. "Alice, find a place where you can get a good view of the clearing. Drosil, stay with her—who knows, she may need a bit of your choice advice. Nasir, you're coming with Christopher and me. Somebody needs to carry the wood for him," she said, mumbling the last part underneath her breath.

"After you, dear pupil," she said, motioning towards the forest.

"Fine, fine." Christopher gave a shrug and turned, beginning to walk back down the steps that led up to the portal. Back to the treeline he went, leading the where there, and they didn't have to go too far in before they found the wreckage of his earlier tantrum. Three trees had been broken at the base, sent to the ground, and the splintered wood was still smoldering ever slightly.

For a few moments he struggled with his pack, grumbling to himself as he went through it with his one hand, but he managed to get a hatchet out before too long. Without looking around he began to hack at one of the fallen trees, separating some of the branches from the trunk and piling them up. Leaving the hatchet in one of the trunks for someone else to use, he struggled for a moment before he managed to get most of the pile up onto his shoulder, taking it back towards the ruins.

He did all of this without a word, and without looking around at anyone else too much, focused just on the task at hand.

Eventually, they had gathered enough firewood to get a decent bonfire going. Once the fire was rolling, Joy stepped up and took command again, setting the order of watches after informing the others that they would break camp at first light. With everything in order in the instructor put her back to a pillar and tried to settle into a comfortable enough position upon the uncomfortable floor below her, hoping that some form of sleep would come before the long day of travel ahead of them.

---

The next day they began to travel, and they traveled hard. Despite the distance, Christopher wanted to make up the time wasted by their delay; in short, he wanted to make it to Kyora in one day. It was a completely ludicrous proposition, and so he didn't vocalize it, but it was clear in his actions; he blazed the trail, he waited anxiously at each stop, and when the going became too hard for Drosil, he carried the mage along, easier than expected considering his one arm.

And by some miracle, they made it. Perhaps it truly was a miracle, one of the Divines playing some sort of trick with reality for their benefit, or maybe it just had to do with Christopher's relentless, constant push forwards. Whatever it was, Kyora suddenly bloomed into existence before them at the top of the hill, and the sight was enough to bring Christopher to a staggering stop. For a moment, he trembled.

And then he tilted his head back, and laughed. He practically howled for quite awhile.

With the mirth (or madness) passed, Christopher led the way down. It was just before sunset, and while the doors threatened to close on them, they managed to squeeze their way through before they could be locked out. The streets within the city were clogged, and though Christopher still had the ghost of that (almost insane) grin on his face, he couldn't help but say, "Well, guess we're halfway there then, huh?"

After all, he had no idea where the fuck they were going.

"Halfway where, exactly?" asked Joy, a hint of frustration in her voice as people pushed past them. She understood why Christopher had been so excited when the city had come into view—she herself was pleased to know that there wouldn't be another day of camping outside—but now that they were here the reality of their situation had set in.

"We don't actually have any idea of where we are going," she continued. "I rather not aimlessly walk around looking for the Wanderer or asking people if they saw any megalomaniac, especially if that bastard potentially has this city under his thumb." She folded her arms and closed her eyes in concentration. "We lost so much time, I wouldn't be surprised if the King and his entourage beat us here." Her eyes popped open. "I suppose we could start there..."

The thought that the King may have beaten them there was a brief kick to the gut for Christopher, but he recovered from it quickly enough, thinking that it could at least give them the advantage for the time being. "Alright, so. Look out for any sort of decidedly Barcean sign, see if the people are excited anywhere in general because of a royal presence. Probably best to keep to the main streets, in case one of them is out; maybe we can pick each other out of the crowd."

The search began, and was surprisingly unfruitful. One would think that the arrival of any sort of royal from another nation would make waves, and yet everyone he asked, from vendors to city criers to guards and beyond had no idea what he was talking about, and sometimes even seemed to think he was either bullshitting them or just desperate for attention.

He was starting to get pissed off, and had taken a seat on a bench in one of the squares to take a breather before he lost his cool. He brought his hand up to rub at his eyes, grumbling to himself ever slightly. Even as he did so, a crier suddenly began shouting their news right next to him, nearly tearing him from his own skin:

"Two days until the greatest performance that Kyora has ever seen! War Against the Gods, beginning at 8 o'clock and lasting until the end! Come see just how the Gifted struggled to survive and win, learn why the God Rulers wanted power at all costs! One night only!"

The coincidence, frankly, spooked Christopher.

He stood, and moved away as quickly as he could, giving just one quick glance over his shoulder before shaking his head. He found Vesta once again quickly enough, and made his way towards her.

"Hey, Vesta. Did you-"

"Christopher! Vesta!" The boy whirled to face the sharp, sudden voice. Alasa stood nearby, waving from one of the entrances to the street and beckoning them over, Christopher leading away. Once they were close, the Sentinel was able to actually speak at a normal volume when he asked, "You're late, what happened? We expected to arrive after you."

Christopher rubbed at the back of his head. "Let's just say an unfortunate set of circumstances delayed us."

Briefly, Alasa's expression darkened, before he shrugged. "We had some trouble on our end too. Follow me, I'll lead you to our base of operations for this... incident."

They had finally made it. They had arrived at Kyora, and had found the Sentinels. In a way, the journey finally felt like it was over for Christopher. Now it was time to work.

Alasa led them through the city like an expert; apparently, he was already familiarizing himself with the general layout, and perhaps had even been doing that when they had happened across from each other. A few minutes later, and they were standing just outside the Hermit's Abode.

"This is it?!"

"I know, but the owner... Anyway, we're the only ones here, so it's actually private."

Christopher just gave a shrug in response, and they entered. The first one to notice them was Cyril, who immediately stood from where he was sitting across from the Wanderer, quickly making his way over.

"Christopher, Vesta! You all made it!"

"Amazingly enough," said Joy, giving Cyril a slight bow. She eyed the collective around the room, taking note of any new faces, before settling her gaze back on Cyril. "I take it we haven't found the Wanderer's friend yet, have we? So," she gestured for Christopher and Cyril to head back towards the Wanderer's table, "what's the situation? Do we have any leads at all on where to start? Kyora's a pretty large city, and I'd imagine they wouldn't take kindly to a foreign power trying to stir up information within there walls."

As they moved, Cyril spoke. "The situation is, as best as we know it, is a sort of standoff. We are here now, but Joachim needs some time to actually prepare for the battle that's to come." Joachim gave a slight nod. "As he works with his old Master, we'll continue searching, but we're going to do it carefully. There's been a change in what we know."

By this point the King was sliding into his seat, and for a moment he was quiet, resting both of his his hands together, before he said in a quiet voice, "On our journey we learned that Yaguar can Remake people, like the God Kings did. So we can't risk getting caught of guard..."

"Shit. You're kidding me, right?" Christopher hissed, and the King only nodded in response before continuing on.

"We're also going to keep cautious because of the Kyoran government. We haven't drawn the attention of the Governor yet, but it's only a matter of time. When that happens, I don't want there to be any stubbed toes to be complained about. The situation is difficult enough as is without getting caught up in bureaucracy."

"You know, I could take care of your bureaucrat problem," called a voice from the door. It was Nia. She had run off earlier to deal with some errands, and had missed the arrival of the King. "The Kirun had some pretty close ties with Kyora back in the day, I can probably call in one of the dozen favors the Governor owes us. Make it so we don't get wrapped up in any red tape."

"Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself again. We've meet once before, actually," she said, smiling. "Forgive me for my rudeness that day. In my defense, our countries were technically at war."

"Who are you?" asked Joy with a bark, her finger teasing her sword's hilt.

"Nia Tucela. You don't remember me?" said Nia. She almost looked hurt. "Well, I remember you. Let's see, you're that bandit who was chased out of the Kirun several years ago, not to mention that just a few months ago you endangered the current lord's life during a hostage exchange." She looked between Vesta and the King. "My. You've come shockingly far. I guess Barcea's pretty light on criminals...or maybe they're just desperate for help, which brings us back to the topic on hand." She sat at the table with no invitation, squeezing up next to Joachim as she looked at Cyril. She pointed at the man. "You need my help."

The King of Barcea didn't respond initially to Nia's proposal, nor to the quick back and forth she and Vesta had. Instead, he only looked to the Wanderer, who gave a meek shrug; when he was suddenly squished into the booth even more, he resorted to twiddling his thumbs, after just giving a slight nod to the King.

Sighing slightly, Cyril nodded, looking towards the H'kelan at the table. "I know, Ms. Tucela, I know. I'll be very grateful for your help. If you can see if the Governor has any information, that would also be appreciated, but if you just keep the Governor from limiting our movements then you'll already have done more than enough."

"Okay, so Razortongue over there will handle the Governor." As he spoke, Christopher gave a lazy sort of wave in Nia's direction, before he directed his hand towards himself. "What about the rest of us?"

"We're going to split Kyora into pieces, and search them as best as we can. Look for anything out of the ordinary, see if we can find any of Yaguar's allies here. I wouldn't doubt if we're being watched already, and maybe we could even lure them into making a strike... But I don't know how likely that is."

Joachim spoke up, and quietly said, "He knows that Yaguar will certainly send his summons when he is ready. He called him, as in this one, here, and he surely knew that his movements would draw the Sentinels and the King along as well. He likely has something big prepared."

"If we can end this before he has his chance at that moment, I won't be complaining." Cyril stated simply.

"So it's decided then," said Joy, pushing herself up from the table even as her body groaned and begged for her to sit back down. "Shall we begin?"

The King nodded. "Spread the news."

[The Darklight Project]

The Hermit’s Abode, Kyora

"Honestly, who does that guy think he is, anyway?" Remy kicked back in her chair, leaning dangerously on the hind legs with her boots propped onto the table they sat at.

The lobby had grown a bit louder just outside, but she didn't care. The tavern was quieter, and she didn't think she could get the kid out. Talking her ear off was always a good solution to filling the silence. It was starting to feel a lot less like wardening, and more like glorified babysitting. "You shouldn't worry so much about what people think of you. I stopped giving a shit about that a long time ago, and look where that got me!"

Sat beside her, Kaishu shoved cutlets of marinated beef into her mouth, guzzling down water to wash it down before starting on some beans. "Can you quit talking to me? You're annoying."

"Annoying?! I'm not the moody teenager."

"Urya. Bai chi."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?!"

"Nao can!"

Clicking her tongue, Remy kicked back again, pulling out her flask and taking a long guzzle. She didn't know, really, what Kaishu was saying. For a diplomat, and the scion of an earldom, well... she wasn't the most culturally-wise. Better to say she just didn't give a crap about learning. It was hard to keep her seated in a classroom most of the time. She was better at practical learning. A lot better.

For now, though, she left the girl in silence, staring at her every now and again as she rocked back and forth on the legs of her chair. For a kid, that girl could really eat. It almost made Remy envious. Almost.

... Maybe a little more than almost.
But that was beside the point. Rocking, and rocking, she finally rocked back far enough to spot a certain head of blue hair. Lifting her arms, she gave them a wave.

"Oi! Cyyyyyyyyyyril! You're not gonna come say hello to me?!"

Kaishu looked at her forehead, in silence. Maybe in a silent wish for this all to end. She continued eating regardless, though.

That blue head of hair was startled out of whatever reverie it was in, and the person who it belonged to quickly made his excuses before making his way along the room. For a place that had been dead deserted just a little while ago, the Hermit's Abode was filled up completely thanks to the King and his companions.

Soon, he was there, bowing ever slightly before sitting down next to Remy. He smiled some, giving a bow of his head, then saying, "Forgive me, Remy, for not saying hello sooner. The Wanderer told me you were here, but I haven't been able to come seek you out. It's good to see you again."

Rocking back dangerously, in a way that seemed like she was going to fall back completely, she only safely rocked forth. Her feet hit the ground hard, and she patted her hands on the table, smiling a little less tantalizingly, and maybe a little more sincerely. "Well, yeah, of course. You're obviously starved..."

Pitter patter went her hands, before her smile faltered a little and she leaned in, clamping him in a hug. "Sorry I wasn't here sooner."

For a moment he was still, and then very gently his arms came up, hugging her back, even as he nodded. "Yeah. It's not your fault, don't worry about it. It... happened quickly."

"I get it." She pulled back, smiling again, though her eyes were a little more vulnerable than that. "We had a sermon for her in the main Cathedral when we had my dad's."

"I'm sorry for your loss." He bowed his head once again.

Waving a hand, Remy snorted. "It's fine. Just wish he didn't go out in such a shitty way... the spring games were his favorite."

Pausing, she glanced at Kaishu, then back at Cyril. "This is, uh..." She gestured awkwardly. "The suspect everyone wanted tossed to the guillotines."

Slowly, Cyril looked over to her. For a moment he was quiet, and then he smiled gently. "Cyril Serio. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Bristling a little, Kaishu looked up at Cyril. She seemed perplexed by his smile, shrinking back a little. She simply nodded. "... Yarinaosu Kaishu."

"She's a bit of a brat. Princess of Kisoku. Mom hitched us together with a warden rune, so I'm kind of stuck dragging her along."

"I see. I suppose that was just to appease the masses, wasn't it?"

"Sort of. I can never tell what my mom is thinking, but..." Remy shifted, leaning an arm on the table. "I don't know. This entire thing is a little bit of a ... complicated situation. I was coming back to Barcea to give you the news, but I guess you're already on some death-defying crusade already, huh?"

"With a one who defied death on the other side." Cyril said glumly, shaking his head afterwards. "It's bad, Remy. When this guy, Yaguar, who was supposed to be killed can come back and just kill and Remake whoever he wants without getting caught, it means things are really bad."

Remy crossed her arms now, looking thoughtful. It was one of the only times Kaishu had ever seen her, aside from once in Bellamy, and another on the road. Looking between them, Kaishu took another guzzle of water.

"The solution from here is simple." She said, fixing her headband back into her hair. "We squash him. End of story."

"Saying it is the easy part."

"Fights against things like Shisor Yaguar aren't easy. I'm not that naïve." Lifting her eyes, Kaishu stared at Cyril. "But so long as we draw in air, saying it has the impact of doing it. It's going to be a shitty fight, no matter how much that Wanderer trains. But we have to do it, and we will end it."

He blinked slightly, looking towards her. His eyebrow raised slightly, before he smirked some, looking to Remy. "I like her."

Patting her hands on the table, Remy grinned crookedly. "She's a total brat. I kind of hate-love it. Right now, I think a little brattiness works. You think that's good? You should see her fight. She almost kicked my ass at the tournament."

Sinking in her chair a little, Kaishu blinked, looking between the two. Her cheeks seemed to flush up, but... she ducked her head, starting to stuff her face again.

Cyril's eyes widened just a little. ”Really? You're not losing your touch on me, are you?"

"No! Definitely not. She's just a natural." Remy crossed her arms again. "Kind of like you! But, like... with more than a sword. She whipped out axes, spears, a bow..."

Leaning, Remy lifted an arm, cupping her mouth in faux secrecy. "I think she's an automaton."

"So not."

Cyril couldn't hold back the chuckle, shaking his head slightly and straightening up some. "Well, whatever the case, I certainly feel a little more at ease having you with us."

Lifting a brow, Kaishu blinked a couple of times. "I'll try my best to help you while I can. If this busybody lets me work ..."

"Hey." Remy lifted her hands. "I'm just doin' what my mom told me to. Make sure you don't do anything insane, keep you from running. Just don't try running again."

"Hmph..." Glancing at Cyril again, Kaishu straightened. "You have the Gift, right?"

He nodded ever slightly, his eyebrows coming together some. "Yes. How do you know?"

Looking between them, Remy looked at Cyril. "The Gift. The fuck's that?"

Looking aside, Kaishu rubbed at her cheek. "... Just heard it through the grapevine."

Cyril's eyes narrowed just a little, before he shrugged slightly and patted the sheathed blade at his side.

"The Gift was made by the Divines long ago, and has been passed through the Serio family for ages. For me, it took the shape of a blade when... I needed to finish off Gartian."

"Eugh. So hocus pocus religious garbage."

"You seem pretty intolerant. You, like... just saw a Divine the other day."

"Uh-huh. That was just some busty bitch with weird powers. I don't believe in that hierarchy of being shit. Just rules."

"Bai chi."

He laughed just a little, shaking his head. "Don't worry, your Highness. I'm used to Remy by now, and her... unique beliefs."

"Oh, don't act like I'm the only person from a place that doesn't share that shit! Kisoku and Bu'zai still worship the damn moon - wait, you can understand her?!"

Holding up her hand, Kaishu waved it. "Only Kaishu."

He chuckled a little, holding up his own hands, with two fingers close together. "Only a little, but decently enough."

"About time someone did. I don't like speaking so much like this."

"Ugh... You two are insufferable..." Shaking her head, Remy sighed, then leaned in. "Say, has Cecilia started bugging you about getting hitched yet?"

Cyril sighed, shaking his head. "No. Been too busy to worry about that."

"Patrons - lucky. My mom wouldn't shut up about it before the tournament. Neither would Ron."

Kaishu smirked cattishly, crossing her arms. "You adults have it hard, I can tell. Real teeth-grinding."

"I never wish such worries to fall upon you." Cyril said, before standing. "I need to spread word around about the plan. If you'll both excuse me."

"I'm coming, too!" Remy hopped up. "I need to spend some quality time with my favowite Kiiiing." She pinched his cheek, snickering.

Standing, Kaishu stacked her dishes neatly. "Am I free to go?"

"For now! But I'll know if you leave. Go make friends."

"...." Giving Remy a look, Kaishu shook her head and headed off, shouldering past the Commander.

"You really should be nicer to her," was all the King said.

"What?" Remy huffed. "I was being nice!"

”Oh, Remy…”

"What?! When wasn't I being nice to her?! I complimented her and shit, didn't I?!"

"Try thinking more from her perspective next time."

"The more you don't explain what you're going on about, the more I regret even considering it." Remy scowled, but shook her head with a sigh. "Look, the kid's fucked up. I sympathize with that. That's something, isn't it? I feel sympathy."

Gently, he patted her shoulder. "It's a start. Come on, I've got work to do."

"Uh-huuuuh." Shaking her head, she grumbled, following in his tracks without another word about it.

---

The Crucible, The Trial, The Clearing

Almost as if he had set an alarm, the Wanderer awoke precisely an hour before the sun would rise. In complete silence he dressed and prepared himself, placing both the broken blade and the new blade at his side, while carefully putting his pack of equipment on his back; the tools, though vicious, might end up being needed for what the Master had planned for him.

With his preparations made, he made his way down into the common room of the inn, which was completely empty save for the Master. The Divine was clearly waiting for him, sitting against the counter of the bar with bottle in hand, and his gaze directed out to the dark street beyond the window. He did not turn his head to look to the Wanderer as he began to speak:

"You remember the way back to the Clearing, yes? Earn your way there once again."

The Wanderer swallowed. He had expected as much, remembering how his first trek up the mountain had nearly killed him; he had been a child then, not nearly as experienced, and yet he couldn't help but feel that the second time was going to be harder than the first. The climb itself, though quite long, wasn't the issue; it was what lay in the way of the climb, things that slumbered that did not like to be disturbed, both living and not.

"You have until the end of the day. Any longer and I'll kill you myself on the trail. Do you understand, boy?"

He bowed his head. "Yes, Master."

The morning moon, like a teasing whisper from a lover, was a bitter thing to look out to. The Princess wasn't so bold to suggest she was the most unfortunate souls, nor was she ever so ignorant, but today's shining hunk of rubble seemed the worst to see. If there was one thing to feel good about, it was that Remigia Bellamy had finally left her alone. One night of solitude was all Kaishu could ever ask for, and she was almost so pleased she thought about passing thanks to the King of Barcea himself.

However, she did no such thing. Her course of the night, instead, lead her to a familiar scene.

For the most part, at least, Kaishu's night went the same as it ever did - alone, awake, gazing up at that chunk of space dust called the moon. When she got bored of that, she took a walk through familiar streets as it broke 1 a.m.. By 2 a.m., she was bored of that, too.

By 3 a.m. the Silver Prodigy returned to the Hermit's Abode and helped herself to the kitchen, preparing herself a meal fit for kings that she ate on her own, belly filled and head numb. It was a better night, she admitted by 4:30 a.m., and by this point she had made her place in the common room, bundled into the dark, presence scarce, head at ease. No doubts, only thoughts - planning. Every now and again, she thought of escape and sanctuary in some distant costal land. She thought of sawing her arm off.
By 5 a.m., she was done thinking about that. Instead, Kaishu focused on eavesdropping. A rat in the dark and a fly on the wall, she peeked an eye open only when mention of the so-called Clearing came into clarity. Leaned on the wall, her eyes flitted over the frame of the Wanderer, a man so strangely small-seeming she was sure he'd be blown over by any sudden gust of wind. Pushing off the wall where she leaned, the shadows all pulled away from her cloak and she lowered her arms in favor of keeping them tucked below.

It would have been no real surprise to the Master to know she had been there, and so, without a word, she looked at the massive man with hooded, lilac eyes that shone every thought in her head. It was barely an ask for permission - more an assurance to him that she'd be following hot in their path.

The Princess didn't know why she felt so compelled. Maybe it was phantasms of memories not hers, or maybe it was a silent cheer for this man called 'Wanderer'. That would be silly, she mused. She had no intention of helping him, and if he died, well...

How messy.

The Master knew she was there, and it made him roll his eyes, causing Joachim to just glance over his shoulder. The Wanderer did not say anything, but the Divine did, after a scoff:

"Great, another idiot. Now there's two of them." He brought up his empty hand, a single finger extended upwards, glare intense as he said, "Fine, but if you help him it'll be the same as him not making it in time, except I'll be killing you both." He looked back to the Wanderer, not waiting for an example, and said, "Get going, so we can get this waste of time over as soon as possible."

Just like that, he was gone, only traces of black left behind that faded like smoke, leaving the two of them alone. Slowly, the Wanderer turned. He gave Kaishu a little smile, but with the slump of his shoulders it clearly seemed forced.

"He would recommend you not following. This will be difficult enough as it is."

Listening without qualm to the Master's conditions, Kaishu simply bowed her head in a nod before lifting it back up. No intention of helping him anyhow. She knew very well how much this trial meant in the grand scheme of things. This was the Wanderer's journey - not hers.

As he disappeared, she looked to the other apprentice with a level gaze. Not a usual scowl, but something gentler. "Worry about yourself. I already know what lies ahead, and I can handle it on my own. You have a time limit. I do not."

The smile on his face seemed to become even more pained, as he shook his head slightly. "You are not wrong..."

With that he began to step past her, heading towards a door, out into the street. To the east, the sun was just beginning to peek over the hills, casting light over the walls of the city. Turning towards the north, he began to follow the streets along, making his way towards the wall in that direction.

Kaishu's only response came in the form of a short click of her tongue against the ridges lining the roof of her mouth. Turning heel, she followed in Joachim's footsteps, gloved hand resting on the hilt of her blade, fingers running along the curved adornments of the pommel.

The night was dragging on, it felt like. The sun cascading through the streets only made that seem more and more real. The silhouettes of homes and the cobblestone shadowed among them became all too familiar all at once. It was a warm nostalgia and a gut-twisting one that she didn't particularly like.

"You hide yourself behind that weak-ass smile too often." Kaishu finally commented, falling into step with him at some point, keeping her statement short, and to the point.

"He does not know what you're talking about."

"You don't want to do this. I think you know that."

"And yet he has no choice."

As they got closer to the wall he scrambled up the side of one building to the roof, following them along; rather than waiting for the gate to open, he simply jumped up onto the wall, pulled himself up, and then dropped down the other side.

He hit the ground with a roll and only a slight grunt, following the road north. Quickly it gave way to simple trails, and then to even less as he made his way into the foothills.

Still, the Princess followed on, although she simply went straight towards the gate. Even so, with a small shift in space and Abyss around her, she appeared on the other side with him even before he dropped back down, figure blurred at the edges and burning like soft embers before settling.

"You always have a choice. It was your choice to leave in the first place, too." Kaishu shook her head, eyes flicking around. "I understand it, though."
He had no response for her. Not to that.

So the two proceeded on in silence, following the trails until they were little more than animal foraging tracks. Joachim continued pressing on as if he knew exactly where he was going, and at the pace they were going the grass fell away to simple stone and snow. They were beyond the range of distance that any citizen of Kyora went, and for good reason; the skeleton of the ruins within and above the mountains was enough to dissuade even the most hardened hunter.

Though the citizens Kyora didn't know it, for millennia the Master had made the area his home, at best briefly leaving but always returning. In the time the Jasian Empire began to stretch across the entire world, the average citizen knew this fact, and worship for the Master reached its peak in both tribute and danger. Though the Jasian Empire fell, split to pieces among the children of the Emperor, the Crucible remained.

Set between twin peaks, the Crucible loomed, spread around both of the mountains. He knew that beyond it laid the Clearing, but it was a sight that precious few ever saw, even in the days that the crucible saw dozens of challengers at a time. Within there were traps, obstacles, and once had even been creatures and Devout prepared to stop progress at all costs, but as the years had gone by time had decayed what was within.

The Trial and its power remained, however.

The doors to the Crucible had collapsed in and back, and they had to climb over the fragments to get inside. Within, they saw the ruins barely hanging together by threads of steel and rock, sprung traps left empty of all except the bones. They proceeded cautiously, Joachim leading the way, but he was not concerned about anything lying in wait for them.

The higher it went, the hotter it became, until it felt as if the very blood within their veins was ready to boil. Within an hour they had made their way to the top of the Crucible, having climbed up the hollow tower where a massive platform would have rose on its own long ago; now, it just fell into a bottomless hole. Above, the room of the Trial at the top was massive, a tremendous space with two solid doors of black stone set into the far wall, and in the middle of the room a raise platform, where a large bowl was carved into the floor.

The Wanderer proceeded forwards, towards that raised portion of the floor. As he did so, he looked back, his smile weak. "Now, he recommends you stay back."

The Wanderer gained no response, however. As his eyes settled back on the Prodigy he was met with a glassy, wondrous gaze that stared ruts into the ruinous ground and sights of the Crucible. With how intent she was, there wasn’t any doubt that Kaishu had been like this for a very long time, maybe even the entire walk.

She seemed mystified. Her memories pulled back to a flourishing and new structure. No erosion, no fragments of something that once was proud. The Princess seemed close to tears, but she was smiling even as they bubbled in her eyelids. Each second passing lost in this faint reverie, Kaishu felt herself being pushed back farther, and farther - but the Wanderer’s voice brought her snapping back.

Smile fading, the younger girl wiped her eyes as though nothing had happened, settling her gaze on Joachim. She blinked a few times, focusing, before responding. “I thought I made it clear that I’m coming to the Clearing with you.”

"He is not stopping you. But for this part, he asks you to stand back. Demands it."

"Only for now, then."

He looked back forward, and continued to walk. Though bits of stone fragments covered the ground, fallen from cracks in the ceiling high up above, for the most part the floor remained clear, and so the narrow and small trenches that ran through the floor in geometric designs, twisting back and forth sharply, were for the most part clear. These trenches eventually reached one of four larger circles in the floor, slight dips at each of the compass points.

He stepped up onto the raised platform, stopping when the bowl was at his feet. He stood there for a moment, quiet... and then a shudder passed through him.

The Crucible, designed to burn away the weak, and leave only the strong. Sacrifice was inherent. Sacrifice was required.

His hand went down as he knelt, drawing the broken blade. He brought it over, looking down to it, and carefully removed a piece of the blade that was about to fall from the end anyway. Carefully he leaned forwards, tilting his head to the side and exposing his neck. The blade went up, and carefully he pressed the base of it against his own throat-

He turned his head ever slightly, slicing into his flesh deeply.

The blood flowed down the blade swiftly, pouring into the bowl. He held it there, even as a tremble passed through him, but as soon as he could he pulled it away, pressing his palm deeply against the wound. The blood, meanwhile, continued to rise, as if more and more was filling the bowl. In a matter of seconds, it began to boil.

Just as quickly as the blood rose, it dropped downwards, down into the hole in the bottom. From beneath the platform it began to spread outwards, flowing in the ruts even as it hissed in its boil, spreading outwards and outwards, farther than it ever should have gone. All the way to each of the four circles it went, creating bubbling pools.

Once more it began to rise, but in slowly congealing chunks. Higher and higher it rose, taking shape in each of the four circles, and before long four bloody Joachims stood at distance from the one in the center, who was shakily getting to his feet.

Without interfering, Kaishu watched the spectacle, hand rested calmly on Danzetsu's hilt. Once more she was met with familiarity, flicking her eyes this way and that as the bloody figures came into place. A phantom burn lit up in the right side of her neck, but it wasn't much more than a tickle.

Like he requested, the Princess kept back. No aid, nothing - that was what she agreed, and intended upon.

Taking a few steps back, she simply made herself scarce, watching in anticipation.

For a while, the five Joachims stood in the positions, all dripping blood to some degree while remaining as still as stone. When some invisible sign passed and the stillness was broken, they all moved as one: the blood four towards the center, and the bloody Wanderer down. As his blade came up, theirs came down, and he was nearly crushed to the ground beneath the strength of four blades that came crashing down onto his raised to block.

Almost flat against the ground, he suddenly lunged around, body twisting and legs striking out at two. With the same movement he spun out from beneath the remaining blades, straightening up and holding his up as he backed towards those that he had kicked away. The two in front of him followed his steps, slashing back and forth, chips of hardened blood flying as each blow was blocked by Joachim.

The two that had been kicked suddenly rose, unnaturally, more flooding upwards instead of straightening, and once more Joachim was surrounded. Like a tornado he spun and lunged back and forth, striking out and blocking as they continued to fall upon him-

A slash here, a cut there, every so often blood would draw blood as strikes slipped past his guard. Despite the pain he remained standing, soon once more knocking two back and away, before taking the third to the ground. The fourth raised its blade high to behead him, but as it swung downwards he rolled away, and it struck its comrade, red splattering upwards and around.

Amazing.

Kaishu watched from the shadows, bundled up and arms crossed as she watched the sanguine battle before her. The red stood out to her more so than any color she'd ever seen. Mesmerizing, she thought, and she was enamored by the Wanderer as he battled for his life.

Bathed in red. She thought it suited him. Her fingers twitched on her arms, and Kaishu's eyes flitted ever back and forth as he moved, a bloody red streak in this murky black and white world's canvas. The Princess was transfixed now, hooded eyes owlish and dazed as she watched in anticipation to his ever fumble and misstep. One wrong move meant life and death, a line he danced on with rusted abandon. Someone so suited to steel and bloody rain should never have let himself oxidize so harshly.

What a stupid old man.

... And yet, she felt herself rooting for him, even if only a little.

Unconcerned with the missed stroke, the one turned towards him, and both lunged at each other. For a moment their feet remained planted as strikes were met time and time again, before the blood suddenly began to give ground, back over the companion that was struggling to reform on the floor.

Harshly, the Wanderer stabbed his blade downwards as he passed over, into the "skull" of the blood, making it go rigid. As it suddenly lost shape and spilled across the floor, Joachim kicked the back of his blade, sending it up from the ground straight into a swing that arced high upwards, and kept the blood form in front of him back.

The other two swooped upon him, and he yelled as, suddenly, a blade made of his own blood punctured through his shoulder from behind, and another cut into his side. He dropped his arms back, looping them first in between and then around the main arms of his doppelgangers.

His own blade was dropped briefly as, instead, he gripped, twisted, and turned their own weapons on them in the same movement. The blade of the one on his left found the throat of its wielder, while the other was suddenly pierced through the eye and out the back of its head.

The blood figures on either side lost their form, tumbling down and washing over him instead, even as the last one stepped towards him. It lunged forwards with its blade, and carved into his side, a sudden, vicious tremor passing through him before he suddenly stepped past, sweeping low. He found his blade, and with it turned around to face his last opponent.

In that moment, they perfectly mirrored each other. With the same practiced movement they sheathed their blades, holding them out to the side. Both stepped forwards using the right foot, and with the motion drew their blades to swing.

Joachim, as he stepped past towards the door, was slashed across the chest. The copy, on its way back towards the center of the room, split in two before splattering forwards across the ground. The doors rumbled, and suddenly harsh white light filled the room at the split-

Joachim collapsed to his knees as, very slowly, the doors swung outwards while snow blew in like a blizzard, blood that had been boiling immediately freezing over.

The victory, messy and distraught as it might have been, brought a sudden cry out from the dark, where Kaishu melded out with her fist in the air and the other clenched in front of her. She had lost track of herself part of the way through, a blunder she'd scold herself for later. Maybe she didn't even realize her own jovial cries at all, even despite the Wanderer's condition.

He did it. Kaishu thought that was all that mattered. Rough, unclean, but he did it. A step in the right direction is a step they need to get through the wall that was Shisor Yaguar.

Cheeks flushed red, she thrust her arms down beside her and composed herself, cloak fluttering as she blinked beside him, floating softly back to her feet and crouching beside him.

"Not the most refined, I'd say." The Princess commented, arm resting on her knee. "Now get up. No time for rest."

For a moment, he didn't respond. He only breathed in deep, heavy breaths that sent icy mist billowing from him. His wounds had already frozen shut, as had the blood that covered him, and he leaned against his blade, it keeping him up.

Without a word, he slowly rose and staggered forwards, out into the ice and snow whipped past, almost as if it were trying to push them back.

Alongside him, Kaishu stood and followed in his path. Her eyes flitted towards him and the path multiple times as the wind bit at her cheeks. She was well-protected from the weather, and it didn't bother her in the least. Her cloak billowed and her scarf tails whipped behind her.

Stupid old man. He wouldn't make it very far if he used his body like that again. Beside her, the prodigy's fingers twitched - no sudden thoughts, no impulsive actions.

Nothing. No help, she reminded herself, and stilled her hands from reaching onto her blade.

There was no path, only piling and packed snow alike that had to be pushed through, sent tumbling to either side. More than once he nearly slipped and fell, almost disappearing beneath the snow before floundering back to his feet. Each step was a challenge in its own right, each breath forced down.

At the height of the rise beyond the Crucible, the mountain suddenly flattened out almost like a dish. Pillars of twisted rock rose all around, the area walled off by the very mountain itself, and beyond the flat land there was one final rise up to the peak of the mountain.

To the left there was a great cavern in the rock, and though ice filled the cracks all around the opening was clear. As the Wanderer trundled forwards, struggling through the snow, something within the cavern moved. Something very big, and very dark.

Kaishu pushed on beside him still, the wind howling in her ears and her feet kicking through snow and ice without trouble or complaint. Every time Joachim fumbled, her hand was there to grab onto his tattered clothing and hold him steady while he struggled to his feet. As good of an aid as she could give him.

Though their surroundings were loud, Kaishu's eyes were keen even through the snow, piercing lilac flames melting through the white haze around them. Her hand went out a bit quicker now, clapping onto the Wanderer's shoulder on instinct. "Careful."

"He knows." He shrugged her hand away, and pressed forwards.

Slowly, the dragon emerged from the cavern. Its scales were the night sky, both black and twinkling. Its head, triangular and acute, held three eyes of deep purple. Its claws, long and twisted, were as black as its scales, and its tail swished back and forth not unlike a cat. Massive, it would have been able to fill the throne room back at the Capitol easily.

Its feline nature became more pronounced as it bounded forwards and around, loping along like a great panther to place itself in front of Joachim's path. Despite its size, the ground barely trembled with its steps, but when the beast reared up and spread its wings to darken the sky, a rumble filled the mountain even though it made no sound.

Slowly, Joachim looked up to the dragon's eyes, and smiled. "Greetings, Venorax."

Its head then went forwards, its maw opening, and cold black flame flooded over him.

Having never seen a dragon before, however, Kaishu's hand went quickly to her blade, body bristling. Familiar, but not enough to quell the alarm she felt seeing it. Instinctively, she ducked away from the flame, feeling no heat passing from the licks that passed. Lowering her arm from her face, she simply watched, owlish and alert, brows furrowed tightly as she gripped onto the warm hilt of Danzetsu's blade.

"... Urya..."

Still, she didn't intervene, but didn't lose her guarded stance much at all.

The Wanderer was gone, disappeared beneath a mass of writhing black flame. When the dragon snapped its jaws shut, the flood of fire stopped instantly, but what had already been expelled clung to the snow stubbornly. There was no crackling to go along with it, no sound at all, silent as the dragon itself was.

Slowly, Joachim straightened. Though he had been consumed by the black flame, and it clung to his body, there seemed to be no damage. However, he was different; the blood vessels beneath his skin stood out, some even bulging, and they pulsed black. Black seeped into the ice that froze the wounds shut, and of his flash what wasn't black was an unhealthy pale, like a fresh corpse.

"Last time, you merely greeted him... He knew it would not be so easy this time."

Once more, he began to stagger forwards, dragging one foot behind him as he moved, and Venorax stepped to the side and turned, taking slow steps along with him.

Behind the two, Kaishu straightened, watching the two lumber forward. For a few moments, she stood perfectly still, fingers twitching and shaking again - but she clenched her hands, steadied herself, and continued on. Her head felt swarmed, flooded with ... nothing. Murkiness.

The feeling was nauseating, like stepping through a dream. The wind howled after her as she watched the Wanderer's back, steering clear of the swinging dragon tail before her. For just a moment, she thought she heard the whisper to her, head whipping back around. She expected to see something else than a blank and vacuous way behind them - but there was nothing.

Turning back forth, she traipsed after the two, coughing into her fist haggardly before settling once more for the trek ahead.

Up the trio went, up the final rise. Finally they reached the peak of the mountain, where the ground curved down and in like a bowl even as the rock stretched upwards into crags around. As soon as they reached the top, the nearly blizzard conditions cleared; though still cold, ice and snow no longer blew against them, and the wind no longer opposed their every step.

Here in the Clearing white flowers bloomed, petals seemingly made of ice shimmering in waves. In the center stood the Master, his arms crossed, and though he stood on a lower level than Joachim he did not need to look up to his apprentice. His eyes were narrowed ever slightly, and calmly he said, "So, it seems you can still reach the top."

The Wanderer nodded, and then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fell to the ground.

Listening to the thud of the Wanderer beside her, Kaishu kept her eyes trailing around the sunken area, tracing its every feature. She flicked her gaze down, then back away with a shake of her head. "Urya. Just barely." Very gently, and gingerly, her hand drifted up to Venorax's hide, rubbing into a soft spot in the dragon's scales fondly.

"The fool's blood has gone weak. That of the Void has become diluted. He'll need more, simple as that."

With that, the Master began to step forwards, even as Venorax tilted his head to the side and brought it around to nudge the Princess gently.

"Are you sure it won't kill him? Stupid old man is more frail than I anticipated..."

While her gaze was on the Master, when the dragon bumped his head into Kaishu her attention was rapidly drawn back. Lifting her hands, she pressed her hands to its soft jowels and rubbed him there, bumping her nose into his snout. She felt a little better like this, she thought. Though, she missed her own kitty back at home, too...

"He received my blood first before he even turned ten. He will be able to handle it, and when he wakes up you will return back to Kyora."

"Ehhhh?" Craning her neck back a little, she scowled over at the Master. "Why?"

The glare was immediate, as he came to a stop in front of them, towering over them all save for the dragon and yet still somehow making it seem small in comparison-

"You are not ready for the lessons that are to come. I will not tolerate your presence here."

Grimacing, Kaishu pressed her cheek into the dragon just a bit more, casting her gaze away from the Master. "Whatever..."

Venorax got some more pets after she uttered that, as she locked her focus on the dragon more than what the Master said.

And the Master ignored her in return, reaching down to turn Joachim over onto his back, before pulling back his own sleeve and pulling up his own blade, drawing it just enough to slice into his elbow.

He held his hand down, and the blood forwards, dropping from fingertip to the Wanderer's mouth.

Joachim began to scream.

[Atrophy]

The Hermit’s Abode, Kyora

It was after midnight. Nia always preferred the nighttime over the morning. It was colder, fires looked brighter, and there were less people around to see her slipping in and out of shadows. Softly, quietly, she unlatched her door and pushed it open, making sure to not have it give away any creaks or groans that would ring out in the silence like a shot in the dark. The hall was empty. Perfect. She made her way down the hallway, her footsteps silent as she passed by door after door, a Sentinel, both official and not, snoozing behind each one. She counted the doors, all the way up to eight, and then stopped. She rapped her knuckles lightly against the wooden door and waited to see if there was a response. Even if the occupant was asleep, she could easily pick her way into the room. Still, best to keep on the right side of the law for now.

The occupant that she was looking for was, in fact, not asleep, and of course was the King of Barcea. Though Cyril had made a sort of show of heading to bed, making sure that the members of the Sentinels had seen it and would think he was actually getting rest, he knew it would be hard coming. He had to think and to plan. Sleep could wait.

With only a single candle lighting the room, he had his map of Kyora opened on the table. There were already plenty of markings over it, sectioning off the city-state into different pieces, for what would be searched and in what order. On the margins he had notes to remind himself of the mountains, the farms, and the docks; Yaguar could be anywhere, not necessarily inside the walls.

Yaguar, who had ordered Yihira killed, had Remade so many people. Yaguar, the Gifted turned to evil, turned to seeing his goals accomplished no matter the cost. Gartian had been made beyond help, was barely more than a dog sicced on Barcea by the Manu Propria, but whatever madness didn't inhibit him, only strengthened him and his resolve. It was not the first time that Cyril had seen or even known of such a monster, but it was the first time he was going to face one.

When the knock came, he nearly knocked over the candle and bit back a hiss. He had been quiet, he knew that much, so no one had heard him; had someone stepped outside and somehow seen the light through his window? If it was Alasa, Sampson, or Gortul he could deal with it, but if it were Vesta or, Ambrosia forbid, Diane he didn't know how he would talk his way out of it...

But when he arrived at the door he learned it was not Vesta, or Diane, or anyone he thought it had might be. Instead it was Nia, and after his surprised blink he smiled as he normally did, bowing his head ever slightly. "Ah, Ms. Tucela, I apologize for the delay. I wasn't expecting anyone tonight. Is everything alright?"

"Well, we are currently hunting down a murderous monster that can magically manipulate people into becoming his psychotic servants so...I'd say everything's about average?" she said lightly, looking past Cyril to the map on the table. "Well, well, well, looks like somebody's burning the midnight oil. Mind if I..."

And with that she slipped past Cyril and into his room, closing the door with her heel as she made her way over to the table. She studied the map briefly as she steadied herself against the table with her hands. So, they really did have no idea where their friend Yaguar was hiding. That was good, well, at least that was good for her. It made her more valuable; gave her more leverage. Grabbing the candlestick, Nia turned back towards Cyril and leaned against the table, making the flame of the candle dance with her fingers and sending shadows stretching across their faces.

"I've come to talk to you about earlier today. Remember when I said that you needed my help? I did not get to say everything that needed to be said, but it did not feel right to do it with so many other ears in the room at the time," she said, her tone growing more serious. In one quick sleight-of-hand she snuffed out the candle and ignited a flame above her own hand, making it appear as if she had simply grabbed the fire from the stick. She stared at the fire as it smoldered above her glove. "The thing is, I also need your help."

"You will help me," she said, looking up at Cyril over the flames. It was clear that she was not asking a question.

For the most part, Cyril only carefully watched Nia as she spoke and slipped her way in. His polite smile remained on his face, but all the while he was simply observing. He didn't mind her making her way in, and seeing what he had done.

But when the conversation turned to help, his arms slowly crossed as he leaned back against the closed door. He should have expected something like this, probably had in the back of his head, but he hadn't thought about it, not with so much already going on. But here it was, and furthermore...

She wasn't asking him for his help. She may as well have demanded it, have gotten into his face and screamed at him with spittle flying. And for a brief moment, it felt like that, and he felt something that he didn't expect. It was there, hissing behind his thoughts, coiled like some sort of snake in his gut or hanging like a bat in his very lungs.

It was a red feeling that didn't belong, and so he pushed that red back down and away. The most that got out was how his hand came up, and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly, as if he were physically relieving some sort of pressure from his sinuses. And then the moment was gone, and his hand was lowering as he smiled once again, gently now, looking back to her.

"Of course, Ms. Tucela. If it's something within my power, I'll do my very best. Of course, that's assuming you're not asking me to, say, hurt someone who doesn't deserve it, anything along those lines. Then I'll just have to say no."

He kept smiling, but he didn't laugh.

"Please, I would never ask for such a thing. All I need is information," she said, matching Cyril's empty smile with one of her own as she rolled the fire from one hand to another."You were in the H'kelan capital when Revali ascended the throne, were you not?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Surely you heard about the little massacre that occurred shortly there after. A room full of power hungry war hawks eradicated like that."

She snapped her fingers.

"It's quite convenient that any who would oppose Revali's rule or try to continue the war with your kingdom were put down like that. Understandably, it made some people a little suspicious," she said, her eyes lowering. "I am seeking some illumination regarding what happened in that room, if you would be so kind."

There it was again, that red, like bile rising. Once again he pushed it down, and then he shook his head slightly. "I wasn't there it when it happened, when she rose. I left just before then. I had nothing to do with the ascension of Queen Revali, only gave a warning that if they let another Gartian rise, I would be there again. The news of what happened... Only reached me afterwards."

And the details of what had happened were horrifying. So many brutally killed. If they were the war hawks, Cyril hadn't known it, or had really cared in that moment; his focus was on other things. Whoever had done it was someone or something else.

Something red...

He shook the thought off, sighing. "I honestly don't know what happened. I don't know how Revali took the throne, or if she had help. I'm sorry I don't have anything more definitive to give you."

"How annoying, said Nia, the fire reflected off of her glaring eyes. Then, with a sigh, her look softened and she smiled bashfully. "Still, I believe you. I will still go speak with the governor. I've already given you my word and, honestly, with this Yaguar being so close to my home I can't just stand to the side."

Nia lit the candle and then smothered the fire she was holding between her hands, letting the room reset to its soft, comfortable light.

"I'll let you get back to your work," she said, pushing off of the table.

---

King of Barcea and Spy for the Kirun parted ways, but it was only for a brief time. After the sun had risen and the group had begun to both gather and split off for the tasks of the day, Cyril found Nia once again, stopping her by a gentle grip on her arm. Quickly, he dropped a ring into her hand, his ring which bore the cross sigil of Barcea over a sapphire. Nia plucked the ring out of her hand and held it up to her eyes, looking between it and Cyril in obvious bemusement, a small, nervous smile on her face.

"Take this with you. That should get you in to see the Governor, let them know you're telling the truth."

"For a second there I thought you were trying to propose to me," said Nia, laughing as she slipped the ring onto her left hand. She held it up to him as if he were supposed to admire it. Nice rock; she imagined it would sell for a real good price. Perhaps if she was lucky the King would forgot that he had loaned it to her. Taking it off of her finger, she tucked it into her pocket.

"Cyril!"

And with a call from Alasa the King was gone as quickly as he had arrived, brought back to the very map he had been pondering over the night before. From there, Nia was left to her own devices. She took her time in town, dipping into various shops and inns, and then around midday headed to go find the Governor.

Finding the Governor's Estate wasn't even slightly difficult; set towards the middle of the city-state, there was nothing else that the mansion set there and surrounded on all sides by heavy metal fences could possibly be. Three floors high and made from a off-white stone, the mansion seemed almost like a series of columns placed side by side and connected, alternating between circular and square segments. With an angle roof of cobblestone above, windows were set throughout, and at first it seemed the mansion was made of equal parts glass and stone.

Guards wearing the colors of Kyora (a faint orange) were set both inside and outside the fences, some patrolling and some stationary. Four stood together in front of the gate that led into the yard and up to the front steps.

When the ring was revealed and her purpose declared, one of the four quickly departed and entered the house. She was made to wait outside for another ten minutes, and then the guard returned, this time followed by the Governor herself. There was no one else such an extravagant person could have been, dressed as she was in silks and jewelry. She was also confident, composed; like she owned the entirety of the city-state around her, and all in it.

Considering that Kyora kept its independence through its economy and that the Governor was always the most successful business kingpin at the time, perhaps that wasn't so far from the truth.

Already, Nia's impression of the Governor had been soured by being made to wait. She didn't care how much money Kyora had, a royal emissary was a royal emissary—even if they were running messages for a kingdom to which they did not belong. When she saw the woman appear in her fine, flowing clothes and with her chin turned up ever so slightly the messenger bristled, sensing an immediate enmity growing between the two of them. Nia, as she was one to do, had primped and preened for this meeting, but there was only so much one could do with a limited wardrobe that had been slightly soiled thanks to her committing to the Wanderer's brisk pace. She didn't like being the second best-dressed in the room; she may as well have been wearing the rags of a beggar.

"So this is the representative then, yes? Of the King who managed to slip into my borders without any fanfare?" Though she grinned, something about the amused expression seemed calculated, as if the Governor was making sure just to let the right amount out. She gave a sort of fluttering wave with both hands, and the guards quickly moved, opening the gate and standing to the side so that Nia could directly approach the Governor.

"Nia Tucela. A pleasure," said Nia with a curtsy, being as polite as possible despite her immediate dislike of the other woman.

The woman bowed, both hands out to the side, quickly rising afterwards. "Myra Quloan at your service! Come with me, come in, please. I would absolutely love to learn why the King of Barcea happens to be in my city today."

"And I would absolutely love to tell you once we are in private. Lead the way," said Nia.

Together the two women walked towards the mansion, Nia taking the time to observe the guard patterns and any alternative means of entry or exit. At the same time, she made small talk with the Governor, little comments about the city or the architecture or the weather, anything to make her seem amicable. They entered the mansion. She tried her best not to look a second time at the two guards trailing behind her, although between the feeling of their eyes on her back and the soft sound of their feet on the floor she knew that they weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

The inside of the mansion was absolutely immaculate and brightly lit, the sun shining off of the polished, expensive looking decorations in the entrance hall. However, the decorations and cleanliness did not end there, and as they continued up the double staircase and down a hall Nia was certain that she had not seen a single speck of dust. Servants, and there were servants here and there, would stop and bow as they passed, and from the corner of her eyes Nia saw that they did not throw the looks of disgust that most servants do whenever their master's back is turned. All of it was a stark contrast to the Cade manor back in the Kirun. Even in its best of days the place had a sort of dark dinginess to it, and ever since the death of Ennis's father it was more of a mausoleum than a mansion.

The pair came to a large, oaken door. Myra produced a key from her pocket and unlocked it, and the women proceeded inside. Much to Nia's relief, the guards closed the door with themselves on the other side, likely posted up and ready to come in at a moment's notice. The room, like the rest of the manor, was neat, although it wasn't completely perfect. The desk had a few papers scattered across the top of it, and the bookshelves that lined the walls had a few stacks of books lying down flat as opposed to being properly put away. Behind the desk was a large window that overlooked the backyard of the mansion, offering a nice view of the fountain and the gardens in it. They both took a seat at the desk, facing each other, and once Nia politely (and regretfully) turned down the tea and cookies the Governor asked her question yet again: why was the King of Barcea here?

"Honestly, I want to ask him that same question. You think a king would be busy, I don't know, running a kingdom, but apparently he much rather distract himself with manhunts and goose chases." Nia smiled. "So, regretfully, I cannot say why he himself is here exactly. I can say, however, that him being here will, at worst, have absolutely no effect on the safety of your citizens or your city's profits so long as you do nothing to stand in his way or the way of his men."

Nia let the words hang in the air for a moment and then relaxed her posture.

"Of course, I know there's no way that you would ever approve of a foreign leader having absolute freedom in your city on the promise of good faith alone. I'm not an idiot," said Nia, her eyes narrowing, "and neither are you, I take it. So, I am here to barter with you. Information for information; favors for favors. And since, allegedly, you failed to notice a foreign leader infiltrate your city until I arrived at your lovely mansion, I do believe that it is your turn to offer me some information."

Nia shifted her weight and propped a hand underneath her chin, almost as if she were bored with the conversation.

"So, do you know of any Gifted that have entered your city?"

There was one thing about the office that set it apart from many others: the models of ships that were positively everywhere. Smaller ones were set in bottles with some water, charmed to look like they were sailing at full speed while remaining perfectly stationary. More of the larger were set on stands, intricate and thorough in their detail from the stitching in the sails to the wrapping of the rigging.

The two that were obviously the prized positions (and also the largest, both being nearly a hard long) were both set on the largest of the bookshelves, one on the bottom shelf and the other on the very top. The one of the bottom both seemed like a ship vaguely speaking, but it was rounded over the top save for a very small railed area, there were no sails, and it seemed to be made of metal.

The model above, meanwhile, wasn't meant to represent a ship for sailing the seas but rather one that sailed the skies. Set with sails, this was clearly a representation of one of the newer models; rather than great balloons full of helium or some other gas that was lighter than air, the engines set in the back were clearly what kept it afloat through the careful harnessing of both science and magic.

Though both of the models were much, much larger than the others throughout the office, something about those two ships made it seem like they weren't simply set at a larger scale, and that the size difference would be equally as impressive if the real ships happened to be nearby.

Myra sat with her fingers folded in front of her face, creating a sort of triangle where the digits crossed. She thought for a moment, and then she shook her head.

"No, and believe me, we'd do our best to be aware of it. The last time a Gifted sneaked in it was over a decade ago, but Kyora still remembers what it was like when the Phantasm lurked in our streets."

She leaned back slightly, her eyes narrowing a little.

"Barcea made it their business that time then, too; so, is it the Phantasm your King is chasing? Is that menace back in our streets? Wouldn't be surprised that he's here to settle that grudge."

"Let's be clear," said Nia, holding up her hand as if to pause the conversation. "Cyril is not my King. I am from the Kirun. Like you, we have no kings. I am simply helping the King of Barcea out of the good of my heart and nothing more. That said," she lowered her hand and placed it on her knee as she sat upright, "your intuition is right: the King of Barcea did follow the Phantasm here."

Nia gauged the woman for a reaction and then leaned forward, lowering her voice ever so slightly as if she was ready to tell a juicy rumor.

"That grudge you were speaking of...is that as in one the Phantasm would be holding against an individual? You certainly couldn't be referring to the King; I'm pretty sure he was still in diapers a decade ago. So, who's the guy that the Phantasm would come out of hiding for just to track down?" She sat back in her chair. "I feel like it would be in both of our interest to warn them, don't you?"

Confusion briefly flitted over the Governor's face, but by the time Nia finished it had gone away. It seemed that everything was clear to her now, with the unspoken assumptions replaced by what Nia had to say.

"Not your King then? So no wonder you misunderstood me, allow me to explain." She settled back in her chair some, going on, "The grudge I'm speaking of is Barcea against the Phantasm. When the Phantasm was here to hide during the God King War, Olain Serio was already in the West and striking against both the Rebellion and the God Kings. When those still in Barcea learned that the Phantasm was in Kyora, well... He was continued to be much too close, and was hunted. There was a lot of killing involved."

One hand came up, spreading her fingers across her face. "But it sounds to me that isn't the case at all? That the King isn't acting on some sort of miniature crusade related to family honor?"

"Right again. You are very good at this," said Nia, a hint of condescension in her voice. "All I can say is that the King is concerned with something greater than honoring the dead."

Truth be told, she was growing slightly frustrated. She had hoped to pull some information about Yaguar out of the Governor without volunteering that he was, in fact, the reason they were there. A nagging voice in the back of Nia's mind told her that there was a chance that the other woman was in league, knowingly or otherwise, with the bastard, but she could tell that there would be no way of determining that with this current line of questioning. Swallowing a sigh, Nia decided to just proceed on with the deal that Cyril had sent here there to negotiate in the first place.

"Lady Quloan, there is a..." Nia's eyes wandered as she searched for the right word. "A cancer here, growing in your city, and from my conversation with you it appears that you either do not know of the kinds of people who make there way into your city's gates," she paused and then, with a hint of accusation in her eyes, added, "or you enjoy pretending that you do not know. Honestly, it doesn't matter either way. The only thing that matters is that you tell your men to let the King of Barcea and his men continue to have access to your city, and that they are not hassled during their stay. That is all. I am not asking you to help us in anyway. I am only asking that you do not hinder us."

Nia's eyes narrowed.

"Do we have a deal?"

Both condescension and accusation alike rolled off of the Governor like water from stone; Myra didn't even blink at each of those moments, her eyebrow just remaining raised in polite curiosity as she watched Nia and patiently waited for her to finish. With the proposition of the deal, her hands went down to gently pick up one of the smaller ships in a bottle, holding it up to her eye to examine it closely.

"Kyora works a little differently. We don't mind who arrives, just so long as they remain within the realms of the law. So long as you and yours aren't planning to, say, take over the city-state, sabotage us, or just in general be a nuisance, I don't really see any reason on my end to stop you. Especially if this 'cancer' you keep vaguely mentioned, don't think that's slipped by me, is as bad as you say it is. However!"

She suddenly sat up some, and with it came a quick flash of a grin, one that was just a little mischievous. "None of that means I don't want to meet the King of Barcea. In fact, I see it as my civic duty to do so. So, you do your investigation, but I want to meet the King.... say, tomorrow night, at War Against the Gods! It's supposed to be one hell of a performance, and I think it would be the perfect backdrop to our meeting. Of course, anyone who would like to come along with him may, free of charge, but he simply has to."

She tilted her head to the side slightly. "Please pass that along to him. You will, won't you?"

"We'll see. I'll show myself out. Have fun with your toy," said Nia as she dismissively flicked her hand towards the model ships and made her way to the door. Her pace quickened; a feeling of unease had crept over her. She had gotten what she had come for, although she was almost certain that she had ultimately made things worse.

[moonfelling]

The Hermit's Abode, Kyora

He had been late in arriving at Kyora, thanks to a set of unfortunate circumstances. He would be damned if he didn't pull twice his own weight when it came to the search for Yaguar.

And so for a task that would reward carefulness over speed, Christopher resorted to haste. Despite the fact that even if he had taken his time he would have been met with the same amount of success (being none whatsoever), doing so much for no result at all frustrated him to no end, to the point that when he returned to the inn he slammed the door shut so hard that the nearby glass nearly shattered.

His mood was foul, and so to combat it he decided to take a page out of his mother's book.

"Give me the hardest stuff you got. I don't want to be seeing straight in less than two minutes."

"Er.... Are you sure that's wise, young sir?"

"I'm old enough to be a war cripple, don't you dare deny me a drink."

It was the early evening, the sun still in the process of setting, and so for the most part it was just him and his opponent: the barkeep named Jeremy. The old man didn't seem to be angry at Christopher for asking, or even that surprised; if anything, he was completely resigned, only weakly resistant.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea-"

"Fine, I'll get it myself." The young man suddenly leaned over the counter in a half lunge, almost falling in the process but still managing to swipe a bottle from under the counter.

"Not quite bottom shelf, thank my uncle. May as well enjoy the fact I'm visiting and test his stores, right?" Christopher calmly turned his handy side away from Jeremy as the man reached for the bottle, keeping it beyond his grasp and giving it a little shake instead, opening it with his teeth afterwards.

"Calm down, it's just whisky. Not like I'm drinking Ambrosiashine, jeeze."

Jeremy's pleas were ignored as the first gulps went down.

However, the poor bartender's begging words didn't fall on only deaf ears. Sat there for quite some time, the Princess had been minding her own business while the moon rose high above the outside of the Inn. It was late, and yet - it was so damn noisy.

Her trip down the mountain had been unpleasant enough, her feelings all blending together inside of her head. A whole clashing of noise - of anger, and doubt, and confusion. This was a confusing time, but it was one Kaishu sought. Coming back to the Inn wasn't hard for her, not in the least, which may have been bad for her. She maybe needed the time to cool her head, but she didn't take it - the fast way meant the fastest way to stuffing her face and being alone... the latter part having not really happened in the end.

Instead, it was just so fucking loud. In a way, Christopher's argument with Jeremy got her startled out of her own thoughts, imparting some relief onto the prodigy that she was bitterly grateful for. Her eyes flitted over to him as he barged ahead, pulled the liquor back and began to drink. She said nothing to him, or to Jeremy, looking between the two. Even if Kaishu tried to say something, she was sure that her words would be lost on this lug of a human being. She remembered him, at least - caused a scene as soon as he arrived.

This wasn't surprising in the least. Unsurprising, but still annoying. And while her head told her to (smartly) say nothing about the matter in her (quite poorly) mood-swung state, her mouth said otherwise. She scoffed, first, before pulling her teeth against a fork skewering a piece of thick, medium steak.

"You're a Nocte... Urya, how unbelievable." Or maybe completely believable. Brazen, a little too outspoken, pushy... it screamed Ambrosia.

"Yeah, I'm a Nocte, what of it?" He didn't even look over his shoulder all the way towards her as he spoke off-handedly, instead cutting the movement short as he took another drink. "You another one who's going to get ticked off by it? Try to kill me because of it? Last bitch who went off on it ended up smashed into the floor, so I wouldn't take your chances. I've got experience in the affair."

He didn't know who she was, only had spotted her lurking around the Hermit's Abode before. Some new member of the entourage, something like that, whatever. To him it just seemed like she was going to have to learn what not to do with her fellow party members the hard way.

"Ne, no, I'm not trying to pick a fight. If anything, you're the one brutish enough to even think it." Again, Kaishu snorted, stuffing more cubes of steak into her mouth. "Just thinking that it's weird. I don't really give a shit enough to get angry about something so innocuous. You do have a lot of nerve taking your anger out on this spindly bartender, though, I'll give you that."

"Please don't drag me into this." The barkeep whimpered.

"If you think this is taking out anger on someone, you must be really fucking sheltered." He didn't even bother looking at her that time at all, only giving a nod to Jeremy. "You're doing fine, right mate? I haven't even touched you, so there's no chance of broken bones, or blood; not from me anyway."

At that point, Jeremy only began to slowly sink down behind the counter.

"And you're really fucking ignorant to think that taking your anger out on people is always physical violence. Bakayaro. You really are thick." She watched Jeremy keenly, blinking her vibrant purple eyes. Kaishu meant it to be comforting, but... as intense as her eyes always happened to be, it probably looked more like a warning.

"Guess I'm not shocked of you to make certain assumptions based on your actions. You're all about subtle, outward ways of taking out your anger. And not so subtle, based on how you confronted the Direwolf not too long ago. But like I said - I don't want to pick a fight. No point. The old man would kill us both."

"The fuck you know about that?" He shook his head afterwards, replacing anger with more drink. "And he might kill you, not me. I don't rely on 'Divine protection' all that much, but here I've got no choice but to acknowledge it's a thing." By that point, the bottle was empty, so he reached for another. "So, maybe instead of acting all high, prissy, and mighty, thinking you're superior when in reality you're the one starting this petty bullshit, shut up and leave me alone like I was leaving you alone."

Ruffling the top of her head a little, Kaishu gave it a shake, resting her elbow down. She could feel a small sweat breaking on her cheeks and the back of her neck, but it was something that could only be felt, not seen. Everything in her head said he was right. She didn't know why she was exactly so keen on starting a confrontation. That wasn't her - she didn't like being the center of attention like this.

For awhile, she sat there in silence after that, prodding the bar with her fork, eyes owlish and mind swirling. "Sorry." She finally said, and just left it at that. No point in making excuses - there was a reason, but that wasn't meant for an excuse. I don't feel myself, is all, she could say, but no excuses.

The fire was starting to die, finally. She liked it when the fire went away. It made her chest feel a lot better.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing dismissively with hand and bottle, fingers flicking along the glass. "Whatever. I'm not into kicking kittens."

That statement made her bristle, eyes peeking from where her arm was bent up to her head still. "What does that even mean?"

"You're like some sort of small cat over there, pretending not to give a shit. What do you think I am, some sort of monster that kills tiny things for fun? Get out more."

"I'm not even close to a cat, bakayaro. And quit saying stuff like that - like getting out more. I'm out just enough... Why would you even use kicking kittens for a metaphor like that, you fucking freak...?"

"You literally bowed out five seconds ago, don't start shit with me again." The room was beginning to pleasantly waver, he didn't need her ruining this.

"I'm just asking a question!" Kaishu straightened up, then, puffing her cheeks before glancing back aside. "... You Easterners... I don't understand you at all sometimes..."

Shaking her head, she sighed, going back to stuffing her face as everything seemed to settle. "You remind me of Ayako."

"It's like there's some sort of subtle meaning there I'm supposed to understand. I hope you're not insulting this person by comparing them to me."

"Definitely not. She's basically my aunt, sort of... She's cuter than you, and definitely a lot pluckier. She's got the mouth on her, though, is what I mean." Kaishu wiggled her hand on a little bit of a plane. "She's disabled, like you. You resemble her in a lot of ways. Nearly a mirror image, only she drinks a lot more."

Scratching her chin, the Princess looked aside. Nostalgia. She didn't like it.

"I'm Kaishu."

"Christopher. And fuck you, I'm the cutest one in this merry band of degenerates."

"Sorry, no. That would definitely be me."

"Not with those eyebrows." Kaishu's foot lashed out to the side, booting into Christopher's leg quite roughly with the statement.

"Fuck you. There's nothing wrong with having big eyebrows!"

He nearly toppled, body drunkly overreacting to the impact. He almost dropped the bottle, somehow gripping it with two fingers while grasping for the bar itself with the other two.

"That said, it's not nearly enough. Everyone knows the cutest things are the ugliest."

He's already drunk... Kaishu grimaced at him, giving a shake of her head.

"You aren't ugly, and I'm only ugly to some people, so we're both undesirable from our skin to our rotten personalities. Does that sound fair?"

"I'll drink to that. But I already am." He started to snicker to himself.

"... Right. You're already drunk. I'm impressed. Should you really even be drinking during such a crucial time?"

"I'll be burned through this before you need to take a piss tonight. Let me worry about myself, you... person."

"You... person. Were you going to call me a bitch? I really must know. Drunken babbling is new to me."

"I've already called you a cat, can't call you bitch now."

"I call my cat a bitch all the time. Bitch is both gender neutral and neutral for all mammals."

"That literally has nothing to do with what I'm talking about."

"It does! Just because bitch is a dog doesn't mean shit."

"No, I'm saying that I wasn't thinking about calling you a bitch in the first place. Now I am though, to be fair."

"Oh. I misunderstood... sorry. What were you going to call me, then?"

"At this point I don't remember." Another bottle was swiftly retrieved, and Jeremy was given a pat on the head. "You're a good guy, you know that? But don't get in between me and a drink. Remember that."

"Urya... don't go threatening him... He already looks close to shitting himself."

"I'm not threatening him at all."

"You just threatened him! That's a threat, Christopher."

"Definitely not."

"Idiot..." Shaking her head, Kaishu looked away. "How'd you lose your arm?"

"Same way I lost my hand." He burst out chortling, head going down to thump against the bar as he continued to laugh.

A bead of sweat rolled down the Princess' cheek as Christopher's drunken merriment overcame the atmosphere. It happened so fast... "... That wasn't the answer I was looking for... Maybe you should stop drinking."

"Not nearly done yet. And the old man ain't here to stop me this time either."

"This time? Urya... How many times..."

"Just the once. So far as he knows..."

"I don't think the old bastard is that dull."

"Probably not, but hasn't stopped me before."

"If you say so..."

Brows furrowing, Kaishu looked away, seeming to get a bit thoughtful. "... I still don't really understand any of you. It's just like that Bellamy bitch. You seem so jovial and alive even when everything is falling apart."

"Well, that I can answer!" He punctuated himself by slamming the (empty) bottle down onto the counter, and cracks ran through it. "The way I see it, I got two choices. I can either be miserable about something, or I can find a way to laugh around it. All depends on my mood which one I pick."

Flinching with the motion, Kaishu drew her arms up as if she were ready to block shards of glass. Thankfully, she didn't have to. Instead the Princess settled her gaze back onto Christopher.

"You make it sound easy."

"That it ain't."

"I know. You've instead chosen to be a different kind of miserable rather than just a vanilla miserable, just like Ambrosia. Everything is so black and white to me, though. I don't see the point in acting like I'm not unhappy. If I feel it, I just am it. I don't understand how to draw a line."

"Sounds depressing as fuck."

"Thanks."

"Don't lie to anyone but the old man."

"Must not make you many friends." With that, she fell silent, resting her elbows on the bar and her cheek on her fist, looking away from him now.

"Ask me if I give a shit."

"Don't you get lonely?"

"Considering the first years of my life were just me and ma..."

"I don't really know how to take that as an answer."

"Means that I'm used to it, obviously."

He suppressed a belch, covering his mouth with his fist before going for another bottle.

Flicking her gaze to his arm, Kaishu clenched and unclenched her fist before looking away and starting to stand. "I'm sure. I'm taking my leave now at any rate. Have fun getting wasted alone off whiskey."

"Trust me, you literally just described the definition of fun- Oh shit-"

Finally, Christopher had reached just a little bit too far, and began to topple over the counter. Just before he could fall upon a silently screaming Jeremy, however, and hand caught him by the bottom of his jacket, and with surprising ease Calypso yanked Christopher back into his seat. Though her yellow eyes were widened just a little, she was of course smiling.

"Ah, Calypso! Thank you for the save. I love you mate. If I wasn't the man I was I'd kiss ya."

"....~"

And then, despite Christopher's flailing, she calmly lifted him up and slung him over her shoulder. She paused long enough to give Kaishu a wave with a wiggle of her fingers, before heading towards the stairs.

"No, gerroff, lemme down- I'll kick yer ass I swear on me mum-"

Staring after Calypso and Christopher, Kaishu made a face. She didn't wave back, instead muttering a swear of, "What the fuck?" in her own language.

The Princess was unnerved by the sheer presence of that woman, and opted to wait until she was out of sight to keep leaving herself.

A whole lot of freaks in this bunch.

[Sol Grim]

"Bunch of weirdos," Dalious muttered. He was not noticed by them, as he was previously passed out along the floor of the inn. He had blacked out earlier from drinking and waiting on orders from his king. The conversation had awoken him, and so he got up and sat back in his chair. A half drunken bottle of rum sat on the table. "Ah, right where I left you." He started his day, even though it was becoming night, with drinking.

"What's that lots story?" he asked to Jeremy, but before the barkeep could answer he stopped him. "You know what, it doesn't matter. To early to trouble the mind with such things. Another shot, mate."

There was a lot that happened in the pirate's absence of mind, and so Jeremy filled him in with the important bits. A few new people here and there, what the king was up to, and the status with the enemy. Not much really, but it was a conversation to last until the sky was its darkest. By then, the pirate was drunk again and his eyes grew weary once more. This time he finished his booze, as he blacked out where he had blacked out previously.

[The Darklight Project]

The Hermit's Abode

Those who were smarter in their searches and actually took their time returned to the Hermit's Abode at later hours. It was honestly unfortunate that they too, for the most part, brought back nothing for the group as well. The only real lead to report was news of ships disappearing off the Kyoran coast, typically at night; for nearly half a year a ship had been disappearing almost once every two weeks, sometimes less.

Though the nautical industry in Kyora hadn't suffered in the slightest, it was more than enough to concern the King and his company. And so, without any other leads, the search area for the next day was narrowed down at least a little.

After all the docks of Kyora were so massive, with its branched out shore, that they accounted for about half of the city-state. There was also the performance to remember that night, with the Governor requesting at least some measure of presence, and so the search would be even shorter for some.

But that was the next day, and there were those who were content to live in the present. Perhaps the Divine Paladin, as calm as ever (when he wasn't slaughtering enemies of the crown), was one such individual; he did not seem bothered by the task that was facing them the next day.

Instead, he seemed more concerned with the state of Jeremy, the bartender who had returned to being curled up on the floor. After stepping around to gently lift the man to his feet and brushing him off, he only asked, "The boy?"

Jeremy nodded, and the Paladin's glasses glinted.

Whatever fell fate that was waiting for Christopher would apparently be carried out later, as the Paladin turned with a smile and asked Sam, who stood nearby almost anxiously, for a small, simple meal of bread, chicken, greens, and water. He waited patiently for the plate to be brought out, and thanked the woman graciously for the meal.

Before eating, he folded both hands over his plate, and quietly prayed to himself:

"Glorious Divines, thank you for the meal. Train my eyes for the days to come, and guide my hand. Allow me to be the second greatest tool you've bestowed upon King Serio, and help me in bringing and a swift and just end to this matter. And, Lady Ambrosia, grant me your patient love. Your favor is taxing."

With that said, he finally allowed himself to at least begin eating.

The door to the inn opened, the creak of its hinges accompanied by the frustrated sigh of a woman whose day had been about as successful as that of the others. Joy stepped through the threshold, her brow knitted, her eyes tired. To most it would appear as if it was just her usual look of downtrodden exhaustion, and she most certainly was, but there was something else thrown in the mix: a subtle hint of concern, of worry, but not the kind that normally peppered the cautious woman's face. She had been searching with Christopher earlier that day before the two of them had decided to split up to cover more ground, but when the young man did not return to their designated meeting spot the rest of her evening had been spent searching for Christopher. It wasn't until the sun had completely settled beyond the horizon that Joy had decided to return to the Hermit's Abode, as annoyed as she was hopeful that Christopher had just forgotten about their agreement.

She scanned the common room, noting the absence of the one-armed idiot that she had stupidly taken under her wing, and cursed softly underneath her breath. She knew she shouldn't worry—he was an adult, technically, and a damned near indestructible one at that—but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was her responsibility. It was similar to how she felt about Cyril and Ayano, as if she was destined to be their protector. She grimaced. Yeah, right. Abandoned them for years and failed to save their sister. Some protector she turned out to be. She rolled her head back and forth, trying to get both the negative thoughts out of her mind and the creak out of her neck.

Joy wanted a drink. Hell, she always wanted a drink, but she hadn't touched liquor in months and there was no way she was going to touch it again. She needed her wits about her, even if the thought of having something to warm the belly and dull the mind sounded so good right now. Something to take the edge off, let her relax, shrug off the days of walking and hours of wasted searching. A break, if only for the night, but of course it would not just be for the night, and her track record had proven that the sauce did more harm than good. She was faster than she had been in years and could actually keep up with the rest of them now, and it wasn't just because of what that lady did to her bum knee. She sucked on her cheek and looked away from the bar, her eyes settling on the Paladin as he ate his meal.

Shit. Not the kind of person she would ever want to talk to, but perhaps he saw the boy come back. She made her way to his table, her face growing stern as if she was steeling herself for what she imagined was going to turn into a lecture chocked full of proverbs and 'praise bes' as she pulled out a chair and took a seat. Now she really needed a drink. For a second she just stared at his food and decided against ordering a plate for herself, fearful that she might start gagging if he started going, and then she made a noise with her throat somewhere between a greeting and a retch as she leaned her sword against the table and folded her arms in front of her.

"Have you seen Christopher?" asked Joy, getting straight to the point.

The Paladin lowered his fork and finished chewing, taking his time to be thorough and clean; raising one finger to plead for more time, he ran his cloth napkin over his mouth before speaking, surprisingly clean for so big and scary-looking of a man.

"I have not seen the boy myself, Instructor Debove, but I know him well enough to spot his trail. He returned before I did, and it seems to me that he spent his time terrorizing poor Bartender Jeremy over there. That, and whichever bottles he decided to nurse." The Paladin gave a slow shrug, his eyes shut behind his gleaming glasses.

"The boy's chosen fallback makes me think he takes after his mother a little too much for my taste, but each and every day it feels like it is less and less my place to intervene. I have taught him what I can, spent years teaching him right from wrong. The mistakes he chooses to make now are his own, are they not?"

The sigh of relief that was about to escape her mouth when she heard that Christopher was back died off as the Paladin mentioned the bottle, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the man's decision to wash his hands of the boy. She placed one hand on her knee and one balled fist underneath her chin as she leaned forward and stared ice straight into the man.

"You tell me. I would say that choosing to ignore someone acting irresponsibly and endangering the mission would be classified as a pretty big mistake," said Joy softly, a hint of anger in her voice. "Son of a bitch. If you won't talk to him when he sobers up then I will."

She slumped back in her chair, letting her head hang over the back as she let out a groan. This was all becoming too much of a headache; she could feel her life being drained out of her. Simply put, she was tired. The years of hard living had caught up with her, or she had finally sobered up enough to realize that they had been caught up with her for quite some time. Even now, doing nothing but sitting in this chair, she could feel the aches and the pains of her body. They used to subside after a moment of relaxation, but now they were a constant. Always there, always nagging at her, serving as a reminder that she was no longer cut out for this kind of life. She let herself fall forward, her hand catching her chin so she didn't crack her head against the table.

"How do you keep up with him?" she asked.

The Paladin, who had once more returned to his meal in an attempt to finish it off, was actually brought to a stop by the sudden question. His eyebrows rose, and his fork hovered in the air just before his mouth for a full three seconds before he regained his composure, slowly setting the utensil back down before he crossed his fingers down in front of himself.

"To put it simply, I have learned after years of watching over the boy when I should run after him, and when I should let him be. In all of my years, I have never seen such a case of self-loathing as his; he acts confident and arrogant, but it is all a defense to keep others away so he can... stand alone, so to speak. Fundamentally, he understands right from wrong. There is very little grey area for him, so when he chooses to indulge in the more... base behaviors he soon returns to his reality with intense disgust."

He gave a nod to himself, as if what he said was apt enough for his tastes. "Now is one of those times. A moment where, in his frustration, he purposefully picked the wrong choice. To try and match his state with how he feels about himself. Tomorrow, when he wakes up he will throw himself into the next task once again with reckless abandon, and this will continue as a vicious cycle until, finally, he succeeds in a way that he believes is worthwhile. The most important part about all of this, and why I'm telling you this, is that it is important for someone to be there to catch him before he destroys himself with these swings. That person could, perhaps, be the one who took years to learn and understand that he needed to be caught, to be helped without obviously helping. The one who missed the obvious for so long, and barely kept the worst from happening. Or it could be someone who has the advantage of knowing in advance his difficulties and pains, and can be so much more effective from the beginning."

---

H'kela, Fallen Temple of Danmun

The new peace between Barcea and H'kela was a strange, unfamiliar thing, and yet it was there all the same. Trade had opened, gingerly at first, and as the merchants traveled others followed.

Among those, many from Barcea traveled as pilgrims to the temple where their beloved Queen fell months before. When it had first become clear that they would freely be allowed to approach and even enter the ruins, the flood had been immense, but even now a few would come and go every so often.

The lone pilgrim of that night was named Joka, and he had once been a farmer who had lost everything in the war. One of the few survivors of the slaughter that began the war, he had seen plenty of death and destruction before it was said and done. Now, he had retired early to be alone. With plenty of time, he made the trip at least once a month.

He was still in shock and rightfully so, and because of that he didn't believe what he saw in those next few moments. When he finally told people about it, they too didn't believe him.

The change was immediate, overwhelming: a sudden shift in the air that brought rage like a plague, a rage that stole and destroyed all other thought, made him forget how to breath and sent him to his hands and knees. As he choked on nothing and struggled to stand once again, he realized that though he was feeling the rage, it was not originally his own; though he no longer felt sad about the fate of himself, his family, and his Queen and instead wished to see Gartian remains, wherever they were, torn to pieces and desecrated, his own anger had only been awakened by this other thing's rage.

It was a rage beyond him, ancient and unending.

Though his senses were shut down, drowning beneath emotion, he still heard the sharp impact of heavy hoof against stone from beyond the pit. He looked up, and failed to suck in the air he so desperately needed as a weak sound guttered out. The horse the hooves belonged to was a monstrosity, three times the size of an average horse and skinless, muscle, sinew, and bone exposed to the world between the once grand rusted armor. It had no eyes, only empty, dark sockets that twitched.

The figure that sat upon it was just as ridiculously large as the horse, its head above the remains of pillars. Like the horse it wore rusted armor that, long ago, was once absolutely majestic; now it was just a twisted, warped shell of its former self, clinging to the body that wore it. Unlike the horse the figure was more skeleton than flesh, and both armor and bones were bound together with chains that clanked with each step of the horse.

The metal on its torso was an exception to the rusted rule, but rather than being a breast plate of some sort seemed almost like a grey cage with arms that looped through the ribs and around the spine. The metal even reached up the neck to the skull, where it seemed to fuse with the bone and reached up like a jagged crown. In the center of the torso section sat a great orb thatwas strangely dull and coloress, save for the moments where white or black pulsed.

At the rider's side were six skulls, metal hooks attached to a belt driven through burned bone, and they clattered together as the mount stepped forwards.

Both beast and rider were encompassed by a flame that was too red to be real. It filled their bones and licked along the muscle, dwelling deep where the eyes weren't and giving off a heat like the sun. Joka was amazed that he did not burst into flame as the pair got closer, never mind the city around it; yet that flame never spread to any of the wood that was scattered all around, nor did it linger on any of the stone.

When the rider brought the horse to a stop, Joka saw no more as he instead bowed his head low, touching his forehead to the step below him instinctually. He only heard what the rider said.

"It was here a woman too good for this world offered up her life fearfully. Her Love led to Pain, and her Pain bleeds to others. She left this world willingly enough, and yet a small part of her still keeps hold. I can feel it lingering here, refusing to let go."

Slowly, the head turned, towards the place to the south where the final battle of the war had taken place:

"There died a man who was conten to drag the world screaming down into his own Insanity. One content to pull half the world into bloody oblivion simply because he was jealous of what others had. A man who did not realize he was being held on a leash, as he ripped and tore at anything within reach. His Madness will shake even the chains of Death until he is answered."

Briefly, the fires seemed to die away, flames becoming embers. It was then the rider turned his mount, and departed the way he came with the following words:

"The Cancer comes for them both. This does not bode well."

Joka did not hear these last words. Unconsciousness had already taken him with the same force the air had left him. He only woke hours later, and by then the sun had begun to rise.

---

Kyora, Grand Theater

As King, Cyril had many responsibilities. His least favorite of these various duties involved anything with the political game; where niceities and the like were required, words had to be carefully measured, and face time had to be given. Cyril saw himself as someone who was always honest and straight forward, someone who kept to business... And going to a play while a madman threatening society as he knew it did not feel like business.

And yet it was necessary, and he was well aware of that. The fact they had been allowed to move and search so easily was because of the grace of the Governor. If all she wanted in return was some measure of a meeting with the King at a venue of her choice, he was more than willing to pay for it.

Preparation took the entire afternoon, as they had to gather supplies in the form of clean and new clothes, proper for the event they would be going to. Even the King needed a new wardrobe, a fact that Diane didn't let him forget as she berated him time and time again as they searched. Getting the attire so last minute caused its own set of problems, but one seamster with a knack for magic was up to the task.

The clothes they received were distinctly Kyoran, sleek and soft to the touch with plenty of capes and wraps. The King was able to have an outfit made of blue, but the canny seamster included Kyoran orange, especially in the fastenings that were closer to jewelry than anything else. The metal shone brightly, glinting with such intensity it would have made a gem jealous, and the King felt more conspicuous than he even wanted to be.

The Grand Theater stood alone in the middle of the city-state, with wide roads placed around it so the other smaller buildings stood an almost reverent distance away. Cyril couldn't help but be reminded of the Guratan Arena when he looked upon it; after all, both structures were shaped the same and held a similar purpose of entertainment, though through different means. The Theater was smaller than the Arena, but was more beautiful to behold, with great white columns and statues of everything from people to scenes of life or battle wrapping around.

There was a bit of a stir when the King's party first arrived; people stared and crowded, but a sudden wave passed through and they were forced to part as the Governor and her attachment of guards and fellow politicians approached. While the King simply tilted his head down slightly, the woman bowed fully with both hands out, the same that she had given Nia the day before.

"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you finally, King Serio! Thank you for agreeing to come to this little performance."

"Of course, Governor Quloan. Please, lead on."

The two parties merged to one, and Cyril couldn't help but noticed that the Governor was pulling him further and further into her own guard. She didn't go far as to actually touch him, but her constant conversation pulled him from his own Sentinels. For a brief moment, it seemed like Diane was about to force her way through back to him, but a glance from him brought her to a stop.

The Governor's constant chattering aside, there was plenty to see on the way up to their private balcony. The inside of the Theater was lit with a grand light, floors clearly illuminated but the shadows beneath the paintings and behind the statues yawning deeply. The higher they rose the higher in society the Kyorans around them were.

The balcony was the largest one easily, but Cyril didn't expect anything else. Servants were at hand, ready to take any sort of requests for drink, food, or the like. There were plenty of seats, but Cyril could immediately tell that there were too many:

"Expecting someone else?"

"Perceptive, King Serio! Yes, some other friends of mine will be coming along soon enough. I play patron to them, and I'm excited for you to meet them."

"What do they do?"

"Consider them a political party, for lack of a better term."

Cyril just nodded, and soon they were all being seated. Down below, the people of Kyora milled together, the stage well lit but closed with giant red curtains.